Song of the Mockingbird
by Ayiana2
Summary: A new investigation seems simple enough until unanswered questions start to pile up. The answers are hidden behind the iron curtain, but will Lee and Amanda find them in time to save a young girl's baby? Takes place shortly after the series end.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Song of the Mockingbird

**Author:** Ayiana

**Rating:** Teen

**Word Count:** About 38,000 (Roughly 100 pages in MSWord)

**A/N:** I've played fast and loose with certain statistical facts to make this work. Please apply a liberal application of reality repellent before reading. Also, this story deals with teen pregnancy and adoption, so if those are hot button issues for you, you might want to give this one a pass.

**A/N 2:** My heartfelt thanks go out to my beta readers: TK, who kept me company through the ever challenging brainstorming/rough draft stages, Amy, who helped me tear the draft to shreds, pluck out the loose threads, and then sew it back together even better, and Laurie, who gave it its lovely wax job.

**A/N 3:** This story is finished, but still being tweaked (mostly because I can't keep my hands off). The plan is to post a new chapter every other day or so.

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"Everything you need to know about Operation Lullaby is in here."

Amanda took the manila folder he offered and opened it on her lap, scanning the cover page while Billy talked.

"If all goes according to plan, you'll be getting a job at a place called Beacons of Hope. It's a maternity home and adoption agency here in D.C.. I want you to check out the residential side of things. Look for anything unusual, anything that makes the hairs at the back of your neck sit up and take notice. I'll have Lee and Francine look into the adoption end."

"If all goes according to plan, sir?" It wasn't like Billy to lead with qualifiers.

"Normally on an operation like this we'd have somebody on the inside who'd be able to get you in, give you a cover, that sort of thing. This time you'll be on your own. You'll need to go through their hiring process. We'll set you up with a resume, of course, and solid references, but you'll be on your own for the actual interview."

"Assuming I do get in, what exactly am I looking for?"

"To be honest, I'm not really sure. All we've got is an anonymous tip. Some kind of connection between Beacons of Hope and the StB."

Puzzled, Amanda tilted her head. "What's the StB?"

"Czechoslovakia's version of the KGB."

"I don't understand, sir. What could the secret police possibly have to do with a maternity home here in D.C.?"

"That's a very good question, and it's one I'm hoping you'll be able to answer for us." A tap on the window drew his attention. Francine. After glancing at his watch, he lifted a hand, asking her to wait. Then he turned back to Amanda. "Now this is all just preliminary, so you'll be the only full time agent on the case until we have more to go on. Lee and Francine will be handling their piece on top of their regular case loads, so you may not even see them. Amanda . . . " He leaned forward in his chair. "I've seen a lot of agents come through this place over the years, but not many of them have your instincts. That's why I want you on this. If anybody can figure out what's going on over there, it'll be you."

Amanda nodded, flattered. "You can count on me, sir."

A twinkle appeared in Billy's eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. "I know I can." He picked up his pen and rolled it between his palms. "This'll be your first solo, Amanda. I'm looking forward to seeing how you handle it."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Amanda stood to go, eager to get started.

"Amanda . . . "

She stopped and turned, her hand on the door knob. "Sir?"

"If you're going to be running your own operation, you'll need a code name."

Amanda bit back a smile even as her heart soared. "What sort of code name?"

He studied her for a moment, head tilted to one side. "How do you feel about mockingbirds?"

"Oh, they're my favorites, sir. They come into my garden every spring and they sing and they sing . . . Did you know they can imitate just about any kind of bird there is? But they're hard to find. You can hardly see them in the bushes. They blend in so well, you see. And they're smart. Really smart. And brave, too. We once had a nesting mother in the backyard that terrorized the neighbor's cat." She shook her head, still impressed by the way that little bird had harried the poor cat until it had given up and left. "That cat still won't come into my yard."

There was a hint of a smile in Billy's eyes when she finally ran down. "Precisely."

"Oh." Amanda stumbled to a stop and stifled a sigh. She'd been chattering like a run-away freight train. Again. "You meant for my code name, didn't you, sir."

"Yes, I did."

"Oh. Well. That'd be fine." In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. "Mockingbird." With a quick nod she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Back in the Q Bureau, Amanda sat down at her desk and opened the folder Billy had given her. It was a slim file, with little more than basic background information, an employee listing with a few pictures, and a brief summary. After calling the home to set up an initial interview, she set to work studying the personnel data in the file, memorizing the names and faces of the staff she'd be working with. She was concentrating so hard that she didn't hear the door open, and when Lee touched her shoulder, she jumped.

"Sorry about that." He squeezed lightly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's okay. I just didn't hear you come in." She leaned into him, giving a little hum of approval when he kneaded the spot where her shoulder met her neck. "That feels good."

"Good" Without stopping the massage, he leaned over to look at the file she'd been reading. "What's this?"

Amanda closed her eyes and let her head fall forward. "Operation Lullaby."

"Oh?" His fingers left her neck, and she opened her eyes in time to see him pick up the file. "Did I miss a meeting?"

"Nope. This one's mine." Oddly protective, she had to resist the urge to snatch it back.

Lee raised his eyebrows. "A solo, huh?" He looked like an anxious parent loaning out the car keys for the first time. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm a little nervous. It's my first real investigation. I don't even have Beaman looking over my shoulder to make sure I dot my i's and cross my t's."

"You'll do fine," he said, without looking up from the cover page. "When do you start?"

"I have an interview Thursday afternoon." She plucked the folder out of his hand and felt instantly better. "Now if you don't mind, I need to study."

He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "Study fast," he murmured against her lips. "I've got plans for tonight."

"Oh?" Her brain always went all fuzzy when he did that.

"Mmm" He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "Dinner with my wife, a bottle of wine, some candlelight . . . "

She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him back down. "I'll be sure to study hard," she said. "Very. Very. Hard." She punctuated the last three words with little nibbling kisses, but when he leaned in for more she pushed him back. "Study first," she said firmly. "Play later."

He sighed and straightened. "How about play now _and_ play later?" Still, he started toward his desk. Then he paused, turned back to her. "Your first solo assignment," he said thoughtfully. "You should have a code name."

"Already got one." And it felt good, as if she'd finally earned a membership to an exclusive club.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "Billy gave it to me just before I left his office." She grinned at his uplifted eyebrow, and sat up a little straighter in her chair. "Mockingbird."

He studied her for a long moment in silence. "Mockingbird."

"Uh huh."

She waited for the wisecrack, but it never came. Instead he only nodded. "Good choice."

Amanda smiled to herself as she went back to studying the file. For once nobody was telling her to wait in the car. And it felt pretty damned good.

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Everywhere Amanda looked she saw photographs of happy couples cradling pink-and-blue wrapped babies. The pictures reminded her of how she'd felt when she'd held Phillip for the first time, and again later when it was Jamie. Did adoptive parents feel that same emotional rush? For that matter, what had drawn Alex Benakov, who looked more like a banker than a maternity home administrator, into such an emotionally charged career?

On the other side of the large antique desk the object of her thoughts nodded his silvered head, closed the folder he'd been looking at, and leaned back in his chair, steepling long fingers under a narrow chin. He had unusual green eyes that made Amanda feel a little like she was being watched by a hungry tiger, but his smile was kind, and there was something about him, a kind of lurking sadness, that made her wonder about his past.

"Everything appears to be in order, Mrs. King." His voice was cultured, with just a hint of an accent.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." When faced by a man like Alex Benakov, a man who wore hand-tailored suits and silk ties like he was born to them, deference came easily.

"You'll be taking quite a pay cut to come here," he said. He tapped his fingertips together as he studied her across the desk, a tiger flexing its claws. "Do you mind if I ask why you want to leave your current position?"

Amanda shrugged. "Well, sir, it's all that travel. My boys are growing up fast. In a couple of years they'll be off to college, then they'll have lives of their own . . . I just want to spend more time with them before it's too late."

"I understand." He sat forward again and opened her file. "It says here that your work with IFF required you to get along with a wide variety of people while adapting to rapidly changing situations."

"Yes, sir. That's right." She bit back a smile at the careful wording for the work she did with IFF. Whoever had put the resume together had done a fine job. She'd have to remember to thank them.

"And you like children."

"Very much so."

Those unusual eyes focused on hers again, and there was a measuring look to them now. "We get all different types here. Some of the girls come from wealthy families; others are referred to us by churches and community outreach programs. Some are angry, some are dealing with drug and alcohol addictions, and some of them just don't have anywhere else to turn. But they're all pregnant, and they're all scared."

His gaze dropped to a silver-framed photograph on his desk, then flickered back to her. "They've made choices, and are continuing to make choices, that will affect them for the rest of their lives. They will do their best to break your heart, and some will succeed." He was sizing her up. She could see it in his eyes and in the way he held his head tilted slightly to one side, the chin tucked back. "Do you think you can handle it?"

It sounded almost as if he was trying to convince her not to take the job, which made her wonder what he wasn't telling her. But he seemed open enough, even interested in what she had to say, so maybe this was just his standard interview method. At any rate, she couldn't do worse than answer him honestly.

She leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap. "Sir, what those girls need is somebody to talk to, somebody who'll listen to their problems without judging them, and I'm pretty good at that sort of thing."

Something about her answer must have satisfied his curiosity, because his shoulders relaxed, the tension around his eyes easing. He got to his feet. "All right, then. Let me give you the grand tour. After that, if you're still interested-" He paused to give her a slow smile. "I think we can probably work something out."

An hour later Amanda took her leave with the understanding that she'd start work the following Monday. She needed to let Billy know, but it was getting late. He'd be leaving the office pretty soon. Still, she waited until she'd put several blocks between herself and Beacons of Hope before turning into a grocery store parking lot. The number she needed was in her wallet, scribbled on the back of an old grocery receipt, and she took it with her to the pay phone. When the line was answered on the other end she ran through the standard identification sequence, then left a simple coded message.

"Mockingbird has landed."

Mission accomplished, she hung up and returned to the car. With a little luck she'd have dinner on the table by six-thirty and be at Lee's by eight.


	2. Chapter 2

"How'd it go?" Lee closed the door behind her and turned the lock.

"Just fine." She moved into his arms. He smelled like mulled wine and candlelight. It made her want to stay in his arms forever.

"They bought your cover?"

"Hook, line and sinker." Fingers splayed flat against the solid wall of his chest, she leaned back to look up at him.

"When do you start?"

"Monday morning." She let her voice drop and laced her fingers behind his neck. "Now are you going to kiss me, or do I have to beg?"

Laughter sparkled in his eyes. "Begging could be interesting."

"Well, if you want to be that way about it." She made as if to move away, then grinned as his arms tightened around her.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Stetson."

Amanda let her eyes drift closed when his lips settled on hers. Her heart thudded once, hard, against her ribs, and she curled her fingers into the soft cotton that stretched across his shoulders. It was indecent what the man could do to her with a simple kiss. The muscles in her stomach and thighs were already quivering.

When he ended the kiss, a familiar pang of regret washed over her. Much as she loved her work and respected his, she couldn't help wishing it hadn't forced them into marital limbo. But she wouldn't complain. They'd agreed that this was the best way to handle things, and going over it again would only make it that much harder.

She slipped out of his arms and crossed to the sofa. Sinking onto the cushions, she tucked her legs up underneath her and let her head fall back. A moment later Lee sat down beside her and handed her a glass of wine.

"Thanks." She took a sip. Soft, fruity . . . Perfect. It paid to marry a man who knew his wines.

"You're welcome." He took a sip of his own, then set both glasses on the coffee table before pulling her against his side and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Now," he said. "Tell me all about it."

"There isn't that much to tell, really, except that it wasn't at all what I was expecting. I thought the home would be a little run down, like . . . I don't know, like what I've seen at the soup kitchen where Mother and I volunteer. But it isn't like that at all. They're in a beautiful old Georgian mansion set back from the road behind a wrought-iron fence. Very private. The driveway is lined with these gorgeous old oak trees, and there are fountains and flower gardens everywhere. It's really very beautiful."

"Amanda . . . The interview?"

"Oh. Right. Well, Mr. Benakov seems like a very nice man. He asked about IFF and the work I do . . . did . . . there, of course. I expected that, since it was on my resume." So were imaginary degrees in social work and developmental psychology, but the agency had arranged for those to be backed up if Beacons of Hope checked them out.

"And you told him . . . "

"That I enjoyed working for IFF, but with the boys growing up, the travel was getting to be a problem. He was very understanding." As she talked, she toyed with his hand. He had beautiful hands, with long, lean fingers and a fascinating collection of scars. Sometimes when they were in bed at night she'd point to one of the scars and ask him about it, just to see if he remembered where it had come from.

"No bad vibes?"

She blinked as his voice brought her back to the discussion at hand. "Not really, but it's still early. I haven't even gotten properly started on the background research yet." He was wearing his wedding band, and she twisted it idly. "When do you and Francine go in?"

His fingers curled over hers. "You mean Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, don't you?"

She nodded, forcing back a twinge of unreasonable jealousy.

"Not until the end of next week. Billy wants you to have some time to settle in first. Why?"

"Just curious." She tried to shrug it off, but her eyes stayed on their joined hands.

"Uh huh. Sure you are." He pulled back. "It bothers you, doesn't it."

Utterly transparent. It was a good thing she didn't play poker. Still, a girl had her pride. "What? You and Francine?"

"Yes, me and Francine." There was pure male satisfaction in his eyes. It made her want to roll her own.

"No, it doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother me at all." It was a lie, and he saw right through it, as she'd known he would.

"I don't believe you." He was grinning now, and this time she did roll her eyes.

"Okay, so maybe it does. A little."

"Amanda, you know there hasn't been anything between Francine and me for years."

"I know that."

"The Peterson thing is just a cover."

"I know that, too."

"Then what's the problem?"

She shrugged. "I just don't like it is all. Look." She angled her body so that she could see his face better. "What if it was me? What if I was going undercover with . . . I don't know, Leatherneck or somebody."

"You and Leatherneck?" She was oddly relieved to see a flash of annoyance. "Never happen."

"But if it did. Wouldn't it bother you?"

"Not at all."

She pushed at his shoulder. "Liar."

He grinned, too. Then his expression sobered and his arm tightened around her. "You're right," he said. "If you ever got partnered with Leatherneck I'd probably have to kill him."

She buried her snort of laughter in his shoulder and felt him press a kiss against the top of her head. When she looked up, he was there waiting for her, and this time there was nothing sweet or gentle about his kiss. This was possessive, the touch of a man staking a claim on his mate, and she responded with matching heat, as hungry for him as he was for her.

It wasn't long before she found herself straddling his lap, her hands buried in his hair while his roamed the length of her back. When she slid her mouth from his to trace a path across his jaw and down the side of his neck he groaned and pressed his hand between her shoulder blades. His other arm snaked around her hips, bringing her body into close, intimate contact with his.

"Can you stay?" The words were little more than a low rumble in his chest.

She straightened. Her heart was racing, and her hands rebelled against her mental order to let him go. Desire lay like a hot coal in her stomach. "'fraid not," she said regretfully. "Jamie has to be at school early in the morning. Math club."

Lee sighed, but his fingers continued their seductive dance against her hip, and his lips brushed her neck, and with each passing second she felt less and less like a mother, and more and more like a woman who didn't want to go home alone--again. Seized by a burst of rebelliousness she very slowly, very deliberately, leaned in until her mouth brushed against his ear.

"I have to be there in the morning," she murmured, and felt a tremor run through him. "Doesn't mean I have to be there all night . . . "

His legs tensed under hers, and he sucked in air. "Amanda . . . "

"Hmm?" She let it vibrate in her throat as she nuzzled the sensitive skin behind his ear. She'd learned a lot about him in the few short months they'd been married, and she put the knowledge to good use, pressing her body into his and smiling to herself when she heard his low groan.

"If you keep that up," he said, "you might get more than you bargained for." But he was already tugging at her shirt, pulling it free of her waistband and sliding his hands underneath.

"Is that a threat?" She nipped at his ear, followed it up with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Or a promise . . . "

"Neither." His arms locked around her, and he twisted, and suddenly she was on her back, looking up at him while his clever fingers reached for the clasp on her bra. "It's a guarantee."

She caught his head between her palms, tugged it down, and looked him in the eye. "I love a good guarantee."

If there was one good thing about their unusual marriage, it was the fact that Lee still had his own apartment. And when they were at his place they didn't have to worry that somebody would walk in on them. So if they wanted to make love in the living room with the lights blazing and smoky jazz music playing on the stereo they could. And if, afterwards, they wanted to lie in each other's arms while they watched TV and finished their wine, they could do that, too--even if they didn't feel like getting dressed first.

It wasn't until Carson was long over and the only things left to watch were infomercials and televangelists that Amanda yawned, stretched, and turned into Lee's arms for a last lingering kiss. But when she would've gotten up he caught her shoulders, stopping her. The regret and frustration in his eyes were almost palpable, and it made her own heart ache in response.

"I don't know how long I can keep this up," he said. His thumbs brushed across her skin, and she bit her lip, tempted to stay with him despite her obligations. "After what happened to Khai, I was so sure that keeping our marriage a secret was the only way to protect our family."

"I know." She kissed him again, knowing she'd fall asleep with the taste of him on her lips. "But what else can we do?" They'd been over the issues so many times that Amanda could practically recite them in her sleep. But no matter which way they twisted and turned the questions, the answers were always the same.

"Not a thing," he said, as if he'd read her mind. He picked up her shirt and got to his feet, shaking his head as he handed it to her. "Not a damn thing."

They were walking a dangerously fine line, and she knew that sooner or later something would happen to knock them off. She could only hope that it would happen later rather than sooner, and that when they did fall, they would fall together.

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By her third day at Beacons of Hope Amanda was starting to feel comfortable. She was in the spacious and gleaming kitchen making herself a cup of tea for her afternoon break when one of the residents came in. Sharon? Shannon? Something like that. Seeing Amanda, the girl apologized and started to back out again.

"Oh, please don't leave," Amanda said, hoping to lure the girl closer with a friendly overture. "I've gone and heated too much water again. I'd hate to dump it down the drain." She moved about the kitchen as she talked, taking out a second mug and then retrieving another tea-bag from the tin in the cupboard. "Would you like a nice hot cup of herbal tea? "

The girl stopped in the doorway, her body poised on the balls of her feet, half in and half out of the kitchen. Amanda was reminded of a nervous rabbit--a very pregnant nervous rabbit. Hoping not to frighten her away, she launched into cheerful conversation.

"It's lovely here, isn't it? Everybody's been so nice to me since I got here that it hardly feels like a job at all. You will keep me company, won't you? I hate to drink alone." Without waiting for an answer she poured hot water in the two mugs. "Do you take sugar in yours? I remember when I was pregnant with my boys. I used to love lots of sugar in my tea. Of course, now they both have terrible sweet teeth. But I don't really think that's my fault. I don't think I've ever met a kid who didn't like sweets." She glanced toward her visitor, noticed that she didn't seem quite so ready to bolt, and reached for the sugar. She gestured to it, and then to the second mug, raising a questioning eyebrow.

The girl shook her head. "Could I maybe have some honey instead?" She took a tentative step into the room.

"Honey it is." Setting the sugar down, Amanda reached into the cupboard again. "You're carrying pretty high. I think that's supposed to mean it's going to be a girl. But then I carried high both times, and they both turned out to be boys, so maybe I've got it backwards." She pulled open a drawer. Sighed. "I know I saw teaspoons here somewhere." Closing that drawer, she opened another. "Ahh. There they are." Retrieving two, she threw a quick smile at her companion. "Or maybe you just shouldn't put too much store in those old wives' tales." She added honey to one mug and sugar to the other, then carried both drinks to the table, relieved when the girl joined her.

"I'm Amanda," she said, deciding a proper introduction was in order. "I'm the new aide here."

"I know." The girl wrapped her hands around her mug and drew it close. "I'm Shannon."

Shannon. Not Sharon. Amanda made a mental note. "I'm pleased to meet you, Shannon."

Shannon gave her a quick, shy glance before returning her attention to her tea, and Amanda took the opportunity to study her. She was small, even for a teenager, probably not quite five feet tall, with slim hips, narrow shoulders, and shoulder-length dark hair that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Her nose turned up at the end, and a light dusting of freckles across its bridge completed a delightful gamine effect that would probably mature into real beauty.

Without taking her eyes off her tea, Shannon began to talk, but her voice was soft, and Amanda had to lean close to hear.

"Is it very hard?"

Confused, Amanda blinked. "Is what very hard?"

"You know," Shannon gestured at her stomach.

"Oh, you mean childbirth."

Shannon nodded, and this time the look she shot Amanda's way was anxious. "It's just . . . I'm so little. I thought that maybe . . . Well you're so skinny too and all . . . "

Amanda took a breath and prayed she'd say the right thing. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to frighten the girl any more than she already was. "It's hard work, that's for sure."

Another small nod.

Amanda touched Shannon's arm and waited for the hazel eyes to come up to hers. "They've got wonderful doctors here, Shannon. I'm sure they'll take very good care of you."

"Yes, but . . . I guess I'm just kind of nervous."

"I was, too." Amanda took a sip of her tea. "In fact, I was so scared I think I must've driven my doctor crazy. I used to panic at every little twinge." A distant memory brought a smile to her lips. "Would you believe that the first time I felt my son move I thought I was in labor? And when he got the hiccups I was just convinced he was having some kind of seizure or something."

Shannon's eyes went wide and Amanda thought she saw the faint beginnings of amusement. "But you seem so . . . together."

That made Amanda laugh. "I'm not. Not really. But do you know what?"

"What?"

"It went fine, in the end. Both times."

Mollified for the moment, Shannon nodded, and for a while they enjoyed their drinks in companionable silence.

When she'd finished with her tea, Shannon pushed her mug aside. "I'm too young to be a mother, I know that." She rested her hand on her stomach in the age old protective gesture of mothers everywhere. "But I don't know if I can give her up. She moves around all the time now, and sometimes at night when neither one of us can sleep, I talk to her." Her cheeks pinked with embarrassment. "I guess that sounds strange, doesn't it. I mean, it isn't as if she can hear me or anything."

"Oh, I don't know. I always imagined it was kind of like being under water in the swimming pool. You know how you can hear everybody talking and laughing above you but it's kind of echo-y?"

Shannon nodded.

"Maybe it's kind of like that. At any rate--" She took a risk and reached out to touch Shannon's arm, relieved when the girl didn't flinch away. "It certainly can't hurt to talk to her, and if it helps you, then that's a good thing, too."

"I guess."

Amanda drew her hand back. "So you know it's going to be a girl?"

A sudden, bright smile lit up Shannon's face. "Just found out this morning."

"I always wanted a little girl," Amanda said a little wistfully.

"Couldn't you still? I mean . . . you aren't _that _old."

Amused, Amanda shook her head. This conversation was certainly making her feel old. "Oh, I don't know. My boys are almost grown. It'd be like starting all over at the beginning."

"Doesn't your husband want any more kids?"

"I'm not married." It still bothered her to lie, even though she'd come to realize that sometimes it was necessary.

"You mean you're a single mom?"

"Sure am. Have been for . . . gosh, five years, now."

"Wow. That must be really hard. My mother swears she could never handle us kids without Dad's help."

"You have brothers and sisters?" Amanda felt a wave of relief as she saw a way to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

"Two of each." Shannon nodded. "I'm the oldest."

"I bet you're a big help to your mother, huh? All those little ones to get ready for school in the morning?"

A look of amused affection crossed Shannon's face. "They drive me crazy."

Amanda smiled, thinking of the chaos that sometimes ruled her own household. "Your parents must be pretty special."

"They are." Her eyes dropped to her rounded stomach. "But they're pretty mad at me right now."

"Oh, I don't know," Amanda said carefully, because it was entirely possible that Shannon's parents were furious. "Maybe they're just worried about you."

Shannon' shoulders slumped. She didn't look up. "They didn't seem very worried when they dumped me here. Mostly, they just seemed relieved."

Before Amanda could respond a group of chattering girls came through the doorway. They stopped when they saw Amanda and exchanged uneasy glances. Julie, Amanda remembered. A new girl who'd just come in yesterday. Susan, blonde, blue-eyed, cheerleader type. And Brynn, the tall, big-boned girl with a belligerent look in her eye who stepped across the threshold like she was going into battle.

"We're supposed to start dinner now," Brynn said. "You'll have to leave."

Amanda got to her feet. "That's okay," she said, meeting Brynn's combative tone with a warm smile. "We were just finishing up." She glanced down at Shannon, saddened to see the girl drawing back into herself. "My shift is almost over, but if you'd like I could stay and help out."

"No. We have to do it ourselves. It's the rules."

"All right then. Just let me rinse these mugs and put them in the dishwasher, and I'll get out of your way."

Amanda gathered the mugs and crossed to the sink, taking Brynn's offensive behavior in stride. After all, she'd probably be a little cranky too if it were her life being turned upside down by an unexpected new arrival.

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Dinner over, Amanda sent the boys off to finish their homework and set about helping her mother tidy up the kitchen. They were almost finished when Amanda decided it was probably safe to talk about her work at Beacons of Hope as long as she didn't get into specifics.

"Mother." She punched the button to start the dishwasher and nodded in satisfaction when the motor kicked on. "Do you remember Mary Endelman? My friend from high school?"

Dotty took a last swipe at the counter and hung up the towel. "Wasn't she the one that got pregnant and scandalized the whole neighborhood?"

Amanda nodded. "That's her." She got out a cutting board and reached for the bread. It was always easier to make the boys' lunches the night before. "Whatever happened to her baby?"

"She never told you?" Dotty filled the teapot and put it on the stove to heat. "I thought you two were close."

"No, she never talked about it. All I know is that she disappeared over the summer, and when she came back it was like nothing had ever happened." But there'd been a kind of worldly sadness in Mary's eyes, and she'd seemed older, as if she'd aged ten years instead of just a few months.

"Ah. Well that would make sense. Her situation was all anybody talked about that spring. Such a shame, really. Good Catholic girl like that. " She reached into the fridge for the mayonnaise and sandwich meat and passed them to Amanda. "Didn't they move away?"

"I think so. She didn't graduate with me, anyway. She just kind of disappeared."

"Mmm . . . Her family probably wanted a fresh start." The teapot started its signature whistle and Dotty turned down the heat, then reached into the cabinet for a mug. "Tea, dear?"

"No, thanks." Amanda put down the knife she'd been using and turned to her mother. "What would you have done? If it'd happened to me, I mean."

Dotty gave her a sharp look. "Amanda King. Are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"

"No! Mother, of course not." And boy, wouldn't that just be the perfect icing on an already complicated cake. The mere thought of it made her stomach clench. "I was just wondering, that's all."

Dotty folded her arms and leaned against the counter, a suspicious glint in her eye. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's this new documentary we're working on at IFF. It just got me thinking, is all."

"You're doing a documentary on teen pregnancy?"

"Maternity homes."

Shaking her head, Dotty turned back to her tea. "Those places will break your heart, Amanda. Are you sure you want to get involved in all that?"

"Mother, we've talked about all this. I like my work. It's challenging, it's exciting, and--" She thought of Lee and smiled. "And I get to meet all kinds of interesting people."

"I know you do, dear." Dotty helped herself to a cookie, offered one to Amanda, and put the package away again when Amanda shook her head. "Sometimes I just wish you had a normal job."

It was a familiar refrain, and Amanda ignored it as she finished with the sandwiches and started clearing up. "I got to know one of the girls today," she said. "Her name's Shannon. She's just a tiny little thing, and she's absolutely terrified. We had a lovely chat over herbal tea this afternoon. It felt good to be able to help her feel a little better about things."

"Ah, well, you always were good with people, dear." Dotty put the meat and mayonnaise back in the fridge, then handed Amanda a pair of lunch bags just as a light knock sounded at the back door. Turning back to the counter, Dotty picked up her tea. "I think I'll take this upstairs." She glanced back on her way out of the room, a knowing look in her eye. "I don't imagine I'll be back down until morning. You will remember to lock up, won't you dear? Oh, and don't worry about the boys. I'll say your goodnights for you." With a wink and a smile, she disappeared around the corner.

Amanda was still smiling when she opened the door to let Lee in. "Hi," she said, reaching up for his kiss. "Come on in."

He followed her inside, closing the door behind him. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's nothing." She threw a glance toward the deserted staircase. "Just Mother being Mother."

"I see."

But it was obvious that he didn't, which amused Amanda more for reasons she couldn't explain. She led the way to the couch and pulled him down beside her. "It occurs to me," she said as she tucked in close to his side, "that we spend an awful lot of time sitting on couches."

Lee groaned. "Please. Don't remind me."

It felt so good just to sit with him that she couldn't help being in a good mood. "Look on the bright side."

He gave her a skeptical look. "What bright side?"

"Well for one thing--" A noise at the top of the stairs made her tilt her head, but when nobody came down she turned her attention back to her husband. "You don't have to sneak around the back yard anymore."

"Hmm."

Determined to tease him out of what looked to be a looming sulk, she pulled his head down to hers. "And we didn't used to do this, either." And with that she set about showing him exactly how much their situation had improved in recent months.

His response was immediate. His arms tightened around her and he pulled her body flush against his as the kiss turned feral. Predatory. Amanda felt herself start to fall, and God help her she didn't want it to stop, didn't want common sense and practicality to remind her that she couldn't have what she wanted so badly. Not here. And certainly not now. Her heart pounded and she couldn't catch her breath, and . . . Gosh, he was good at this. What had made her think she could initiate this without wanting more? But almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind he tore his mouth away from hers and pressed her head into his shoulder.

"God. Amanda . . . "

"I know." Her voice was muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be." He rubbed his hand up and down her back. The motion wasn't quite as soothing as he probably meant it to be since all she could think about was how that hand would feel against her skin. "I like kissing you."

It made her smile to hear him say it like that. "I kind of like kissing you, too."

She felt his quiet huff of amusement more than heard it. "I did get that impression, yes." He set her away from him and tugged his shirt back into place. "Now," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh. "Tell me about your day."

"There isn't that much to tell, really. It's all pretty routine. I certainly haven't seen anything to make me suspicious."

"Maybe that's a good thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that maybe that tip about the StB was a red herring. It happens, you know."

"It's only been a few days. I'm not ready to give up just yet." She took his hand in hers, contenting herself with that light contact for the moment. "I had tea with one of the girls today. Her name's Shannon. She can't be more than fifteen or so." Opening his hand flat, she traced his fingers one at a time, tip to palm to tip. "She asked me what it was like. Childbirth, I mean."

"What did you tell her?"

"Mostly I just tried to reassure her." She looked up from his hand and found him watching her, his gaze intent. He always paid such careful attention to what she said. It was one of the things she loved about him. "I told her some of the silly things I did when I was pregnant with Phillip. She seemed to feel better after that."

"Oh yeah?" Interest bloomed in his eyes. "What kinds of silly things?"

She grinned at him. "That's classified information, Scarecrow."

"Hey, I'm your husband." He kept his voice low and threw a wary glance toward the stairs. "I think I have a need to know. After all, if we have kids of our own some day, I should know what to expect, right?"

When he tensed, she knew he hadn't meant to say it. And she understood why. It was too soon to be talking about having a baby. They were still trying to figure out how to be married. But since the can was already open, she might as well stir up a worm or two.

"Kids of our own?"

"Well . . . yeah. I mean . . . It could happen, right?" He was all but squirming, and Amanda knew she should be nice and let him off the hook. But she couldn't resist teasing him--just a little.

"Well yes. I suppose it could." She bit her bottom lip, struggling to hide her amusement. "Theoretically, anyway."

"That's right. Theoretically." He was quiet for a minute. "Of course, we'd probably have to actually spend some time together for that to happen."

"Some of the girls at the home got pregnant their very first time," she pointed out, and felt his fingers jerk against hers.

"Hell of an eye opener."

"No kidding."

His chest rose beneath her head as he took a breath. "Do you . . . want more children?"

"Oh, gosh." He'd neatly turned the tables on her. Had he done it deliberately? At any rate, she was the one squirming now. "I don't know. We've already got the boys . . . "

"True . . . "

It was noncommittal, but she could've sworn she heard disappointment in there somewhere. "I've always kind of wished I'd had a little girl, though."

"Really."

She nodded.

"A little girl, huh?"

"Sure." She pushed back so she could look at him. "It'd be fun to have somebody to do girl stuff with."

"I see." He considered that for a minute. Then, "I bet she'd look just like you," he said. "And then we'd have to lock her up when she turned twelve." He tapped her lightly on the nose. "To keep the boys away, you know."

"Flatterer." She dropped her head back down against his shoulder. "Of course, little boys are fun, too."

"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I imagine they are."

He wrapped his arms around her, and as Amanda relaxed against him she pictured Lee holding a baby in his arms.

And smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Lee sat close to Francine on the elegant leather couch in Benakov's office. He put his arm around her shoulders and took her hand in his, adopting the persona of dutiful husband. Francine was wearing a conservative, pale-blue dress, and with her hair and makeup rather more restrained than usual, she looked every inch the devoted wife. Her dress had the understated simplicity of some of Amanda's outfits. Had Francine been studying her style? It amused him to think that she had. Francine could learn a lot from Amanda if she'd just give it a chance.

"This says you both work outside the home," Benakov said as he flipped through their paperwork. "Is that correct?"

He had an accent. Amanda hadn't mentioned that. Russian? No. Not quite. He'd buy Czech though. The man was certainly elegant. Well-turned out in a suit that looked hand-tailored. Expensive.

"That's right." Returning his attention to the job at hand, Lee squeezed Francine's hand. "But my wife's going to quit when we start our family. Isn't that right, dear?"

Francine gave him a bright smile before looking over at Benakov. "That's right. I believe that mothers have a solemn duty to stay at home while their children are young. Don't you agree, Mr. Benakov?"

"I don't know about a duty," Benakov said carefully, "but I do agree that it is better for children if they do not spend too much time in the care of strangers." He closed their file, tapped its edge against his desk to align the papers inside. "Everything appears to be in order here. You have a nice home, good family support structure, and your financials are certainly in order." Setting the folder aside, he leaned forward, an earnest expression on his face. "You know this is a process, yes? It can take months to make a good match, and we don't approve any adoption until we're satisfied that everybody's adjusting well to the arrangement."

"We understand," Francine said. "We just want a family so badly." She cast a quick glance over at Lee, the sly amusement in her eyes meant only for him. "My husband can't have kids, you know." Lowering her voice, she folded her hands primly in her lap. "Low sperm count." She shot an apologetic look at Lee, who made a mental note to get even later. Then louder again, more confident as she straightened and turned back to Benakov. "And just the thought of artificial insemination." With a delicate shudder, she shook her head. "I just couldn't do it."

"It's okay, dear." Lee squeezed her shoulder just a shade harder than strictly necessary and had the satisfaction of feeling her wince. "This is going to work out for us. I can feel it in my bones."

"Do you have time for a short tour of our facility?" Benakov asked. "I would very much like to introduce you to some of our staff."

"That would be very nice," Lee said, speaking for both of them. "Thank you."

Benakov stood and gestured toward the door. "Please. Follow me."

Amanda was right, Lee decided. The place was spectacular--tastefully decorated, well-maintained, and staffed with people who obviously knew what they were doing. The third floor--administrative offices and records--was thickly carpeted and furnished in beautifully restored antiques. The medical facilities were on the second floor and included two labor and delivery rooms as well as a state-of-the-art laboratory. There was even a fully equipped neo-natal ICU.

Where had the money come from? Not adoption fees. He'd already looked into those. They were in line with private agencies all over the country. There had to be something else. Something he wasn't seeing.

As they stepped out of the elevator on the first floor Benakov was telling them that this was where the residents' rooms were. The classrooms and library were also on the first floor. There was even a full time teacher whose job it was to make sure the girls didn't fall behind in their studies.

"Do all of the girls who come through here give their babies up for adoption?" Francine asked as they passed a trio of girls with their arms loaded down with textbooks. But for their rounded stomachs, they would've looked like any other group of chattering high school girls.

"Not all of them, no," Benakov said. "In a few cases family members offer to help the girls raise their babies, and occasionally one of our residents decides to marry the father of her child." He shook his head. "But we don't encourage that."

They toured the sunny kitchen and dining room, and then moved through the common area before crossing back to the receptionist's desk. They were wrapping things up when a door opened down the hall and Lee saw Amanda emerge from one of the resident's rooms. She was carrying a baby in her arms. As he watched her approach he wondered if she was aware of the tender look in her eyes or the soft smile that played about her mouth as she tucked a blanket beneath the baby's chin. Love caught at his heart. Squeezed. He closed his eyes. Pulled it in, locked it down.

"Mrs. King," Benakov called quietly. "Do you have a minute?"

With a quick glance down at her charge, Amanda crossed over to them. "Yes, sir?"

"I'd like you to meet the Petersons." He indicated Lee and Francine. "They're hoping to adopt." Turning to Lee and Francine, he finished the introductions."Mrs. King is one of our aides."

"Hello," Amanda gave them a polite smile, and Lee was relieved when she showed no sign of recognition. "I hope you won't mind if I don't shake your hands." She glanced down at the infant in her arms. "Little Mark here has only just fallen asleep, and I'd hate to wake him up.

Francine leaned in to look, making an odd noise that sounded more animal than human. Hoping to cover the strange sound, Lee cleared his throat, but he must've startled the baby, who stirred in Amanda's arms and let out a faint cry.

"Shh," Amanda whispered. "Easy, now." She drew the words out on a gentle hum, her body swaying a little, like a tree bending in the breeze. The motion was hypnotic, and little Mark must've found it soothing too, because he quieted. "If you'll excuse me," Amanda said softly, "I'd like to get him settled and get back to work."

"Of course, Mrs. King." Benakov nodded. "Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome, sir." Her gaze shifted to Lee and Francine. "I hope you do give one of these little ones a home. You seem like a very nice couple."

The words were bland, and only somebody who knew her well would catch the hint of irony behind them. Lee bit back a smile. It was hard to believe there'd ever been a time when he'd thought she was wrong for the spy business. On the contrary. His wife was a natural.

*********************

*********************

Amanda had been so busy since starting work at the home that she hadn't had much time to spend with the girls, so when she found herself at loose ends on Friday afternoon she took her glass of iced tea down the hall to see if any anybody was in the common room.

Shannon was there, curled up on the couch with a textbook, and she gave Amanda a quick smile before returning to her studies. Not wanting to disturb her, Amanda settled into an armchair near the sunny window.

Brynn came in a few moments later and lowered herself onto the other end of the couch. Casting a furtive glance in Amanda's direction, she reached for the remote control on the table between them. It was against house rules to have the television on this early, but Amanda didn't comment. She wanted the girls to act naturally around her, and that wouldn't happen if she started playing the part of disciplinarian. Besides, turning the television on wasn't exactly a major infraction.

The two girls couldn't have been more different. Little Shannon, with her quiet, shy ways, was trying to study despite the noise. And Brynn was pointedly ignoring both of them in favor of the sitcom on the television. When Julie and Susan came in, Brynn didn't look at them, either, apparently uninterested in the card game they were setting up.

Shannon shifted on the couch, a look of discomfort flitting across her face as she rubbed at her stomach.

"Is she kicking?" Amanda asked.

"More like doing somersaults." Shannon grimaced. "Makes it kind of hard to study."

Brynn's head swiveled around at that. "Only nerds study on Fridays." She popped her gum. "I bet you get straight A's."

Shannon blinked. "Sometimes."

"Like I said." The gum smacked again. "Nerd."

Shannon dropped her gaze back to her book, but Brynn continued to study her.

"When are you due?" Her voice was more bored than interested. She played with her hair while she talked, twirling a long strand of it around her finger over and over again.

Shannon's head came back up, and Amanda saw faint irritation in her eyes. "Three weeks."

"I got another five."

Julie looked up from her cards. She had skin the color of sourwood honey and dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to hold the world in their depths. "You gonna keep it?" she asked Shannon.

"Keep what?"

Brynn gestured at Shannon's stomach. "For a nerd, you ain't too smart. She's talking about the kid, stupid."

Shannon hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't think so." But Amanda noticed that she didn't look happy about it as she nodded toward Julie's stomach. "You?"

"No way. I'm going to be the first one in my family to get a college degree. I can't do that and take care of a baby at the same time." Julie turned to Susan, who'd been watching the conversation in silence. "What about you?"

"Nope." Susan picked up a card from the deck, tucked it in among the others in her hand, discarded another. Her face remained expressionless, but her eyes flickered over Amanda before returning to Julie. "Your turn."

"Are you going to keep yours?" Shannon asked Brynn.

"Nah." Brynn glanced at the TV as a burst of canned laughter spilled into the room. "I don't need a screaming brat ruining my social life." She shifted, tugged at her maternity top. "Of course," she said, "my mom knows how to fix that. My baby brother cried all the time until she started smacking him when he did it." She popped her gum again. Grinned. "He learned."

The revelation was all the more shocking for the casual way Brynn delivered it, and Amanda had to work hard to keep quiet. But the girls had all but forgotten her presence, and rather than reminding them, Amanda watched their reactions. Susan's attention never wavered from the cards she held in her hand. But Shannon and Julie wore nearly identical looks of shocked horror, and Shannon's hand moved protectively to her stomach.

Brynn was watching television again, her interest in the conversation waning. "They push adoption hard here. But they don't have to worry about me." She picked up the remote control and started clicking through the channels. "The way I figure it, if adoption was good enough for me, it's good enough for my kid."

The surprise on Shannon's face mirrored Amanda's own feelings. "You were adopted?"

"Yup." Satisfied with whatever show she'd found, Brynn stretched her legs out in front of her and linked her fingers across her stomach. "And I turned out just fine."

*********************

*********************

"Fancy meeting you here." Lee closed the door to the Q Bureau as Amanda looked up from the computer. "I thought you had target practice this morning."

"Finished about an hour ago," she said. "I would've stayed longer, but Leatherneck had a date." She circled something in an open file on her desk, closed it, and pulled another folder from the stack by her elbow. "Anyway, I wanted to take a look at some of the stuff Lennie pulled together for me while I was in the field this week."

"Lennie the Librarian?" Like so many at the agency, Lennie had earned his nickname. There wasn't anything written down, photocopied, or mimeographed that he couldn't track down.

She nodded. "I asked him to see if he could find any information about the girls who'd come through Beacons of Hope over the years. They're pretty careful about confidentiality over there, so I wasn't expecting much." She gestured at the stack of folders. "He and his team found ninety-eight girls in three days. With pictures. And he's promised more by the middle of next week."

"That's Lennie for you." Lee leaned a hip against the corner of the desk and watched her work. She looked tired. But then she often did these days. It was beginning to worry him. "You should've called," he said. "I would've come in earlier, given you a hand."

"No need. I was here anyway. Besides, I thought you could probably use a break. You've been working pretty hard yourself lately." She drew another circle, closed the folder, reached for a new one. "Speaking of which--" She took her eyes off her work to glance up at him. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Courier duty. There was a mixup on a drop, and Billy called me in to untangle the mess." He grinned. "I got the distinct impression that he didn't want to give up his Saturday afternoon."

"Ahh." Closing another folder, she set it aside and reached for the next one in the stack. "Anyway, I thought I'd head over to your place after I finished up here." She glanced up at him. "If that's okay with you?"

"It's your home too." He bent to brush a kiss against her forehead, lingered there for a moment. "How long can you stay?"

"Well, Joe has the boys for the weekend, and Mother's off on a jaunt with Captain Curt . . . " She looked down to draw another circle. Close another folder. A tiny line had appeared between her eyebrows. Something about the files was bothering her, but he didn't press. She'd tell him when she was ready.

"The boys are gone all weekend?" They'd have two whole days together? No interruptions? The fact that the news made him feel like he'd just won the lottery was testament to the strangeness of their lives.

"Mmhmm," she said absently. "Lee, look at this." She opened a series of folders and arranged them on the desk so that the cover pages were visible. "Back when Billy first gave me the file on Beacons of Hope I noticed that their infant mortality rate seemed a little high, but I didn't think too much about it because it tends to be a high risk population, anyway."

"That makes sense."

"But it doesn't. Not really. You've been there. You've seen the place. They have a state-of-the-art medical facility."

"That doesn't make the deliveries themselves any less dangerous."

"Maybe not, but take a look at these pictures." She gestured at the files. "Do you notice anything strange?"

He looked. And saw typical American teenagers. "Not really, no. Should I?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Dropping her pencil, she pushed back from her desk. "I asked Lennie to go back ten years." Her eyes came up to meet his. "Remember that infant mortality rate we were talking about?" The pictures lined up edge-to-edge, a quartet of young women whose lives would forever be defined in two acts--before pregnancy and after. "These are some of the girls whose babies died." She gestured toward the other side of the room, and Lee saw that she'd set up a bulletin board. "Those too."

He crossed to the board and took his time reviewing the neatly pinned pictures. But no matter how carefully he studied them, he didn't see any connections between them. "Tell me what I'm missing."

Amanda got up from her chair and came over to stand beside him. "Look at them, Lee. They're beautiful."

"So they're attractive. So what? All teenage girls are attractive."

That earned him a raised eyebrow and a speculative glance. "No, sweetheart, they aren't. Not like this anyway."

It was that intuition again. Instinct. Whatever she called it. At any rate, she'd been right often enough in the past that he gave the pictures another long, careful look. But he only ended by scrubbing a hand against the back of his neck and shaking his head again.

"I'm sorry, Amanda. I just don't see it." He turned to her, took her hands in his. "And if I don't, it's a safe bet Billy won't, either."

"I know." She sounded frustrated, but not defeated. Blowing out a breath, she turned back to the board. "Listen, I'm going to work on this a while longer, but there's no need for you to stay, too. Why don't I meet you back at your place in a couple of hours?"

"You sure you don't want some help?" Though he'd probably only be underfoot--she'd told him more than once that she got more done when he wasn't around.

"Positive."

He turned her into his arms, felt her settle against him. "I'll pick up something for dinner," he offered. "Any requests?"

"Nope." She looked up with a faint smile. "Surprise me."

"I think I still know how to do that," he said. He bent to kiss her, felt the familiar rush of heat, and lifted his head before the embers could burst into flame. Reluctantly, he set her away and started toward the door, only to turn back on the threshold. "Hurry home, okay?"

"You bet." But she was already staring at the bulletin board again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

He watched her for a moment, unobserved. He'd been right the day he'd asked her to marry him. She really was the smartest, bravest, most beautiful woman he knew. She might still be a novice spy, but she was damn good at her work. With a faint smile, he pulled the door closed and started down the hall, his mind already leaping ahead to the coming evening.

********************

********************

It was the kind of tedious paperwork best tended to on a quiet weekend afternoon. Benakov worked quickly, updating files and checking through the supply orders with an efficiency born of experience. He was almost finished when they heavy office door opened on silent hinges to admit Vanek. Alex looked up at his dour-faced chief of security with something approaching humor.

"You should try smiling once in a while, Vanek. I believe it would look good on you."

"I smile when something amuses me," Vanek answered in that peculiar, uninflected tone that always seemed to lower the temperature in the room. He crossed the thick carpet to stand in front of the desk. He didn't sit down. He never sat down. "You do not amuse me."

Benakov sighed. It would be pointless to pursue the matter. Vanek's sense of humor had undoubtedly been exorcised at birth--along with his personality. "Why are you here, Vanek?"

"I am always here."

True enough. Vanek had a small cottage of his own on the property. It meant he was always around in the event of trouble. It also meant Benakov lived his life under a microscope. He reached for patience, fully aware that the other man took pleasure in annoying him.

"I meant,"--Benakov tried for patience--"why are you in my office." He stiffened as a frightening possibility occurred to him. "Was there some problem with the transfer?"

"No." Flat and cold, Vanek's eyes revealed nothing of what he was thinking. "They have asked me to express their continued satisfaction with your work."

There was no need to ask who "they" were. "Then I ask you again. Why are you here?"

"They wish to double their order."

"_Double_ it?" Icy fingers crawled up Benakov's spine. "I can't _do_ that! Not without arousing suspicion!"

Vanek showed no sign that he cared. "You can," he said calmly. "And you will." He started toward the door, then paused. His gaze skimmed across the antique desk to settle disdainfully on Benakov's hand-tailored suit. "Unless you wish to bring our . . . arrangement"--he sneered the word--"to an end." He moved to the door again, opened it, and turned to face Benakov once more.

"And that," he said, "would be most unfortunate."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****This chapter probably deserves an M rating. Consider yourself warned.**

********************

********************

It took Lee longer than he'd expected to run his errands, but he was still surprised when he got back to the apartment and saw Amanda's car parked in front of the building. He hurried up, looking forward to spending some time alone with her.

The apartment was quiet. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in the windows. He smelled furniture polish, saw that Amanda had tidied up the newspapers again, and heard the low hum of the dishwasher. So not only was she here, she'd been home long enough to clean up. He always felt guilty when she did that. She had enough to do taking care of her own home.

"Amanda?"

When there was no response he crossed to the bedroom, only to pull up short in the doorway. She was lying half on and half off the bed, fast asleep, her arms wrapped around a bundle of sheets and towels. Shaking his head, he moved to her side. Apparently her endless supply of energy wasn't so endless after all. As gently as he could, he slid the laundry out of her arms and set it aside. Then he eased her feet up and onto the mattress, correcting the unnatural angle of her body. She stirred slightly at that, mumbled something he didn't quite catch, and rolled over. A strand of hair fell across her eyes. He shifted it aside, his finger brushing against her skin.

Long seconds passed while he stood beside the bed and watched her sleep, tenderness welling up inside him. He would give her the world if he could, tie it up in a bright red ribbon, top it off with a bow, and offer it to her on bended knee. The whimsical thought brought a smile to his lips as he backed quietly out of the room and went to make dinner.

By the time she came looking for him the dishwasher was empty, the groceries put away, and dinner nearly ready. He was working at the stove when she put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his back.

"Hi," he said quietly. He leaned across to turn off the the heat on the sauce, then turned to face her. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Don't worry about it." He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "You were pretty tired, huh?"

"It's been a busy week."

He smiled at the understatement. "Seems like they're all busy these days."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey." Holding her away from him, he searched her eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She moved out of his arms and picked up a slice of cucumber. "It's just this case."

"The maternity home?"

"Uh huh. It just feels wrong. Like there's something there, something I'm missing."

"Give it a little more time. You'll figure it out." He poured the wine, handed her a glass. "Why don't you set it aside for now? We'll have a little dinner, drink a little wine"--he touched his lips to hers--"and relax. It'll do us both some good."

She tilted her head, and there was something in her eyes that made him take a long, slow sip of his wine . "I know something else that would do us some good."

"Oh?" He put down his glass and bracketed her waist with his hands. So small. It still surprised him sometimes. "And what might that be, Mrs. Stetson?"

She set her glass down next to his on the counter. Then she moved in close, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. "Oh, I imagine you can make a pretty good guess."

"Mmm . . . " Her blue-jean clad hips pressed against his. He bent his head to kiss her, tasted red wine on her lips. "Maybe we should adjourn this discussion to the bedroom?"

"I think that's a very good idea." Moving out of his arms, she picked up the two glasses of wine and started out of the kitchen. "I'll meet you there."

It was, he thought later, probably the fastest he'd ever drained the water off a pot of pasta, and the fact that he'd done it without scalding himself seemed a minor miracle. He stirred in a bit of fresh garlic and some olive oil, put the lid on the pot, and set it on a back burner. After a quick check to make sure the oven and stove were both turned off, he blew out the candles in the dining room and went to find Amanda.

She was just coming out of the bathroom, and the sight of her hit him like a blow to the stomach. The women he'd dated in his earlier years had traded on their sexuality, using it to trap men the way a spider traps a fly. But Amanda was different. Amanda wore her femininity the way she wore her clothes, with a kind of natural grace that hinted rather than flaunted. And along with all that natural grace came a hidden talent for choosing lingerie that made his heart race. Red tonight--the color of a good merlot. Spaghetti straps. A neckline that dipped low enough to make his mouth go dry. And a straight fall of shimmering fabric that shifted when she moved to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of leg.

He swallowed hard. "Wow."

A smile climbed from her lips to her eyes, lighting up her face along the way. "You like?"

Unable to do much more than stare, he nodded. "Oh, yeah."

She crossed to where he stood in the doorway, but stopped just out of arm's reach. "Lee, are you all right? You look a little flushed."

"You look-"--he shook his head, trying to clear the fog--"beautiful."

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "Well I'm glad you like it, but if all you're going to do is stand there and gawk . . . "

He hauled her into his arms, cutting off the end of her sentence with a kiss that made her gasp against his mouth. Soft. God, her lips were so soft he thought he might sink into them, losing himself forever. And then she made that sound, the little hum that never failed to make every hormone he had stand up and take notice. Her arms came up around his neck, and her fingers slid into his hair, and he was lost.

They made it to the side of the bed in a series of stumbling half steps that had Amanda giggling against his neck, but she quieted when he pushed his hands up her sides, taking the silky fabric with them, and an instant later the newest addition to her wardrobe also became the record holder for shortest wear time. But it would hold the title unremarked, because Amanda was already busy unbuttoning Lee's shirt, and he was paying more attention to her neck than he was to the pool of lingerie on the floor.

"You know," he said, his words muffled against her skin, "sometimes I think that in a good stiff wind you'd just about take flight." His hands were at her waist, thumbs brushing over hip bones that were too prominent.

"Then you'd better hold on tight," she said. She had his shirt open now, and he sucked in air as she brushed her lips across his chest. "Because I sure wouldn't want to get lost."

He loved the feel of her, all that soft skin spread over a core of willowy strength and seasoned with an unconscious sensuality that drove him crazy, especially at work where all he could do was look at her.

"Don't worry," he said, and with a quick half step and a twist he tumbled them both to the bed, then smiled at her gasp of surprise when he rolled her to her back and came up over her. "You aren't going anywhere."

She tilted her head and shifted her hips against his, and it took everything he had to hold back a groan. "Aren't you a little over dressed?"

And then he did groan, because yes, he was still wearing his jeans, and yes she was lying there with that hungry look in her eyes and that mouth that all but begged for his. "Stay put," he said, and then, just to make sure, he lowered his head and ran his lips up the column of her neck before zeroing in on her lips for a kiss that had her digging her fingers into his shoulders and arching her body up to his. Drawing back, he studied the glazed look in her eyes and decided she wasn't going anywhere.

Jeans, he decided a moment later, were brilliantly contrived torture devices. And Amanda didn't exactly help matters when she sat up to nibble on his shoulder and run her fingers through his hair.

"Amanda . . . You're killing me here."

Her soft laugh tugged at the corners of his mouth as the button finally cooperated and the zipper slid free. Leaving his jeans and boxers to land where they would, he wrapped his arms around his wife and took her back and down again, pressing her into the mattress, capturing her face between his hands.

"Better?" he asked, as he felt her arms settle around his neck.

"Better." She ran her foot up his leg, and he heard laughter in her voice. "Socks?"

He shrugged, busy exploring the line of her jaw. "Are you complaining?"

"Oh, no." She snagged the edge of the left one with her toe, drew it down. "Not at all."

How did she make his heart race just by sliding her foot along his leg? No other woman had had that effect on him. Ever. She was working on his other sock now, and he rose over her, resting his weight on his palms. She was biting her lip in concentration, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing. She slid the second sock down and off, rubbed the flat of her foot up his calf.

"You have nice legs, for a scarecrow," she said.

"And you," he nipped at her bottom lip, "have a pretty nice mouth, for a mockingbird."

She laughed, a sound he never tired of hearing, but one that faded into a sigh when he trailed a line of kisses down her neck and kept going. He'd once made a joke about American housewives being generous lovers, and as he felt her body rise to meet his and listened to the quiet sounds she made as she responded to his touch he knew that in Amanda's case he'd been right. She gave everything, asked nothing in return.

They'd only had a handful of nights together since their marriage, so each one was a kind of gift. And he wanted tonight to be special. He let his fingers lead his mouth, trailing over her skin, tasting, touching, loving--drawing quiet murmurs of pleasure from her throat and the touch of her hands against his skin. He wanted it to last forever, this sanctuary of time that was theirs alone.

So attuned was he to her mood that he sensed the instant her need began to quicken, knew before the gentle tug at his shoulders that she always used instead of words. Still, he drew out the moment, working his way slowly back up to her mouth, taking a brief detour to nibble at the bottom edge of her ribs and tease free a sound that managed to be both a laugh and a sigh.

It always made her gasp, that instant of utter intimacy when he slid into her for the first time, and he caught it with his lips, kissed it away. He waited then, watching her eyes and the way she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she lifted her hips to meet his. And even then--even after she pushed her head back into the pillow and he saw the pulse thundering in her throat, felt its match in his own chest--even then he forced himself to move slowly, drawing out each instant, each sensation, until passion overtook tenderness.

He was watching her, fighting the instinct to close his eyes, determined to put her needs ahead of his own, and so he knew when she was close. And he kept watching, still moving with her, still fighting for control, until he saw her go over. It was the first time he'd ever done that, and the expression on her face combined with the movements of her body to pull him over too, and then his eyes did close, because he couldn't do anything else. His release washed over him in great, shuddering waves, taking him so high that for a little while it was as if he was alone in the universe.

But when he came back to himself she was still there with him, her hands on his shoulders, her body joined to his. And there was a look of such tenderness on her face that he felt suddenly too open, too exposed, and he had to roll to his back and pull her into his arms, if only to shift her attention. They were both breathing hard, their bodies sweat slicked and trembling. He held her close and waited for his pulse to slow, using the time to catalogue sensations--the press of her breasts against his side, the brush of her hair along his jaw, the slow stroke of her hand on his chest--storing them away for the lonely nights to come when he would lie here alone. These were things that he treasured, that he wished he could have every night--instead having to steal them from the midst of their other responsibilities.

At least she wouldn't leave him tonight. In a few minutes they'd put on their robes and go to the kitchen. Amanda would get out a tray and load it with napkins and silverware while he dished up their dinner and refilled their wine glasses. They'd bring everything back to the bedroom and eat in bed, cross-legged, sharing laughter and bites of food like the lovers they were instead of the co-workers the world thought they were. And afterwards they'd curl up together and he'd tuck the sheet around her shoulders, and he'd hold her while she slept, her breath warm against his arm, her body curled into his.

In the morning, he'd make love to her again, and then they'd shower together. They'd argue about breakfast and talk about their plans for the day and pretend they were a normal, married couple.

But eventually Sunday evening would come, bringing with it the real world, with all its responsibilities and challenges. Instinctively, protectively, he tightened his hold on her, wishing he could hold back time the way he'd learned to hold back Dr. Pain--with a neck pinch and a well-placed kick.

Something had to give.

Soon.

********************

********************

"Scarecrow!" Billy's voice boomed through the bullpen, drawing eyes from all quarters. "My office! Now!"

Lee and Francine exchanged a glance.

"Wow," Francine said, "it's been a while since he used that tone with you." She lowered her voice to a whisper and nudged his shoulder. "Come on, tell Francine all about it."

Ignoring her, Lee stared at Billy's closed door, a frisson of unease skipping up his spine. "I wish I could."

Something about his voice must've caught her attention because she tilted her head to one side, a calculating look in her eyes. "Well you'd better get going," she said. "It's never a good idea to keep him waiting, but when he's like this . . . "

"I know." He straightened his tie, unaccountably nervous.

"Good luck," Francine said as he turned to go.

"Thanks. I think I'm going to need it."

Seconds later he gave a light tap on the door and went in, his unease growing when Billy got up to close the blinds.

The sound of the door latch was like rifle fire in the tension-filled room. Lee closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and crossed to one of the leather chairs. There was no point asking Billy what was going on. He'd find out soon enough.

Billy finished with the blinds in silence, then reached for a piece of paper on his desk. Without a word, he held it out.

Lee didn't need to do more than glance at it to know what had happened. What he didn't understand was _how_ it had happened. He and Amanda weren't up for review for at least another six months.

"Billy--"

Like a dam giving way before a flash flood, Billy's temper burst free. "What the hell were you thinking?" His voice rose, fury driving up the volume. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

On his feet now, Lee paced to the door. Spun back. "I got married, Billy," he said, his own anger rising, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "People do it all the time."

"Well that's fine. That's just fine," Billy snarled. "Did it ever occur to the two of you that I might need to know about it?"

"Nobody knows," Lee said heavily, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. "Not even Amanda's family."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Billy sat down, hurt replacing the anger in his eyes. "I trusted you, Lee. And I thought you trusted me."

"This isn't about trust." But he'd known Billy would see it that way. It was one more ugly side effect of the whole mess.

"Oh no?" Billy shook his head. "Then maybe you could tell me what it is about, because I can't think of any other reason why you would've kept this a secret."

"Two reasons." Lee ticked them off on his fingers. "Phillip. And Jamie."

"Amanda's boys?"

And now his as well, though it still felt a little strange to think of himself as a parent. He nodded.

"What about them?"

"Remember my friend Khai?" Khai of the earnest face and astounding courage. Khai, who'd been forced take his family and run after his own countrymen had put a price on his head.

There was a moment's pause, and then a single, sharp nod. "The Vietnamese double agent who faked his own death. Yeah, I remember him."

"They took his son, Billy. His seven-year-old son." Lee still remembered the look on Amanda's face that day in the car, the day they'd both realized that it could happen to their family, too.

Billy stared at him in silence while several tense seconds ticked by. "You thought that if it got out that you and Amanda were married, somebody might come after her boys." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah."

Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, Billy blew out a breath. "Lee . . . "

But Lee was already shaking his head. "I can't take that risk, Billy. And I won't ask Amanda to, either."

"No. You'll just ask her to live a lie, instead." Billy's eyes zeroed in on him like twin lasers. "My God, man. Have you seen how tired she looks lately?"

"Yeah, I've noticed." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, remembering how she'd fallen asleep with her arms full of laundry. "I just don't have a clue what to do about it."

"If you had just come to me. Told me what was going on . . . "

Stung by the implication that he hadn't thought things through, Lee leaned across the desk, his eyes on Billy's, his voice low and tight. "And what would you have said?"

"Well I sure as hell wouldn't have told you to try to hide it!" Billy leaned forward. "Look. There are ways to deal with this sort of thing."

Lee blew out a disgusted sigh and straightened, needing to move, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the wall. "You make it sound like some kind of disease."

"Be serious, man."

"I am being serious." The double life he and Amanda were leading wasn't doing either of them any good. He knew that. And he hated what it was doing to Amanda. She never complained, but he knew she was using makeup to cover the shadows under her eyes. And she was losing weight, something she couldn't afford to do.

Billy went on as if Lee hadn't spoken. "Do you think you're the only agents who've ever had a family to worry about? Hell, your own parents were agents!"

It was a low blow. Lee's eyes snapped up to meet Billy's. "And they died because of it."

"Because of their work, yes." There was no apology in the hard look Billy gave him. "That's a risk we all take every day. And you're deliberately missing the point."

"Which is?"

"They were married, Lee. By all accounts happily so. And they had a family." The telephone rang, but Billy ignored it. "They didn't hide you, and they didn't hide their relationship."

"Yeah, well that was a long time ago, Billy. Things are different today." And not in a good way.

"Sure they are," Billy agreed. "The bad guys have gotten smarter." He smiled thinly. "But so have we."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"I can't tell you that," Billy said. "But I will say this much. Your marriage may not be common knowledge, but your relationship is." He lifted a hand, forestalling Lee's response. "So keeping that" -- he gestured at the copy of the marriage license -- "a secret isn't going to keep those boys safe, but it could end your marriage before it even gets started."

The words sent icy fear through Lee. He'd give up his career before he'd give up Amanda. "And what do you suggest I do about it?"

"Stop hiding," Billy said bluntly. "Come clean. Then get those boys into some self-defense classes, take a few common-sense security measures at home," he lifted his hands, dropped them again. "And hope for the best."

"And if our best isn't good enough? What then?"

"Then you deal with it. But you can't keep going like this."

He was right. Lee knew that, had known it, somewhere deep down, for a long time.

"Now." Billy took a sip of his coffee. "What do we do about Lullaby?"

The abrupt conversational shift caught Lee off guard. "What about it?"

"Mockingbird is compromised," Billy said, dropping into agency jargon with the ease of a chameleon changing its color. "We need to find a way to pull her out without dropping the ball on the rest of the operation."

"Wait a minute. Pull her out? Why?"

"We sent her in there under her real name, as a single mother with two teenage boys. What do you suppose they're going to do when they run a background check and find out she lied on the employment application?"

He hadn't thought about background checks. Stupid. His heart caught in his throat at the possibility even as he answered. "Amanda's a pro, Billy. She'll talk her way out of it."

"And if they connect her to you? What then?"

"There's no reason why they should. Francine and I are under deep cover."

"That's a pretty big risk. If these people are connected to the Czech government, things could turn ugly fast."

"I don't think it'll happen." He had to believe that, because the alternative made his blood run cold. Resting his palms on the edge of the desk, he leaned in. "Look, Billy. You can't pull her off her first solo."

For a minute he thought Billy was going to insist, but he finally nodded.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said. He pointed a warning finger at Lee. "But if you start to suspect you've been made I want all three of you out of there. Pronto."

Relieved, Lee allowed himself a faint smile. "You got it."

"Now get back to work." Billy reached for a file in his inbox. "And keep me posted."

Lee started toward the door, glad to have the difficult conversation behind him. "I will."

"Oh, and Lee . . . "

His hand on the doorknob, Lee turned back.

"Congratulations."


	5. Chapter 5

"I want to keep her."

Amanda looked up from the inventory paperwork, glad of the interruption. Shannon stood on the other side of the kitchen counter with a defiant look in her eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I want to keep her." She gestured at her stomach. "My baby."

_Oh boy_. Amanda put down her pencil. "That's pretty big decision," she said carefully. "Are you sure?"

Shannon nodded, her gaze steady.

"Have you talked to your parents about this?"

Defiance gave way to fear as Shannon broke eye contact. "Not yet. I wanted . . . " She hesitated, angled a glance at Amanda from beneath lowered lashes. "Would you be there?"

"Shannon . . . I don't know."

"Please?"

So young, Amanda thought. And so idealistic. She'd been like that once, certain that she held the world in the palm of her hand. Too bad life had a way of pulling the rug out from under you.

"Shannon, have you really thought about this? Taking care of a baby is a lot of work. And what about school?"

"I'll find some way to finish. And I want to go to college, too."

"Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to do all that with a baby to look after?"

"I can do it, Mrs. King. I know I can."

Amanda shook her head. "I'm not the one you have to convince."

"I know." Shannon toyed with the pencil, rolling it back and forth across the counter, shoulders tense. "Mom'll be okay. It's Dad I'm worried about."

"You don't think he'll agree?"

She shrugged. "I was his favorite," she said. "We all knew it, my brothers and sisters and I. They used to tease me about it." Abandoning the pencil, she swiped her hands against her maternity top. "I guess they won't do that anymore."

Amanda knew the Beacons of Hope policy against encouraging the girls to keep their babies, but Shannon was different from most of the girls she'd met. Maybe if she had help--and plenty of support from her family--she could make it work. At any rate, it wasn't Amanda's decision to make. It was Shannon's.

"All right." She picked up her clipboard and pencil. "Call your parents. If they'll agree to come in and talk, I'll be there."

Shannon's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Mrs. King! Thank you!"

Amanda watched her go, saw the lightness in Shannon's step and the way her hand rested on her stomach--and hoped she hadn't just made a terrible mistake.

********************

********************

"We've got a problem."

Benakov looked up. "Good afternoon to you, too."

Vanek dropped a piece of paper on the desk. "Background check on Amanda King just came in."

"Oh?" Alex picked up the report, but didn't bother reading it. "And?"

"She's married."

"So she lied on her application. I'm sure she had her reasons." Her personal life was of no concern to him as long as she did her job, but he knew Vanek wouldn't leave it alone. "I'll talk to her."

"When?"

"When I get a chance!" Irritated, Alex rose from his chair and crossed to the wide windows that overlooked the gardens below. He was suddenly very tired. "I said that I would speak to her, didn't I?"

"If you would prefer," Vanek answered, "I can handle the matter myself."

"No!" Alex took a calming breath, clenched and unclenched his fingers. "I'll take care of it."

"Good." Vanek turned away. "I will expect to hear from you after you do."

Benakov didn't turn from the window when he heard the door close. Twenty-two years he'd put up with that man's irritating presence in his life. Twenty-two years of meticulous work that should have earned him the trust of his compatriots a long time ago. He turned back to his desk, his eyes falling on the silver-framed photograph near his blotter.

It was her laughter he remembered best. That and the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him.

"I know," he said softly. He touched a fingertip to the shining, honey-gold hair. "It is a small price to pay for redemption."

He thought of Vanek, with his broad shoulders and cold eyes. And he thought of the handgun Vanek always wore. He kept it concealed, so the girls never saw it. But Alex knew it was there. Alex always knew. Vanek made sure of it.

"He has no heart." He shook his head. "And a great deal of power."

Returning his gaze to the portrait, he sank into his chair.

"It is a dangerous combination."

********************

********************

Lee pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. "Phillip, that was delicious."

"Thanks." Phillip ducked his head, but Lee could see he was pleased with the compliment.

"Yes, Phillip. It was wonderful," Amanda said. "Best spaghetti I ever had."

Phillip rolled his eyes at his mother. "Does that mean I can get dessert now?"

"Well I don't know, sweetheart. Has everybody finished their dinner?"

"Everybody but you," he said. "But you never eat very much anyway, so that doesn't count."

Amanda laughed. "I tell you what. You and Jamie clear the table, and I'll see if I can't find us some pie."

"Yay!" The boys were on their feet in an instant. Phillip grabbed the leftover spaghetti and headed for the kitchen.

"I'd better go get that pie," Amanda said, getting to her feet.

Lee started to get up to help clear the dishes, but Dotty waved him back down. "Let the kids do it," she said. "Put all that youthful energy to work on something productive for once."

"Grandma . . . " Jamie threw his grandmother an embarrassed glance.

"Never you mind, young man. Just get busy." She picked up her plate and handed it to him. "You can start with this."

With an exaggerated sigh, Jamie took the dishes and trudged off, leaving Dotty and Lee alone in the dining room. Dotty lowered her voice and leaned in, a predatory gleam in her eye.

"So tell me," she said with a quick glance toward the kitchen. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of my daughter?"

Lee almost choked on his wine. "Excuse me?"

"Well it's about time, don't you think? I mean it's obvious you love her, and God knows she's been in love with you for years."

Years? "Mrs. West, I . . . "

"Dotty."

"Dotty." Dear God. Where was Amanda? "We haven't talked about it."

"Well of course you haven't. Amanda would never bring it up herself. She's too old-fashioned for that." She shook her head. "Oh I know things are different these days. I mean just the other day I saw a woman propose to her boyfriend on Donahue. Can you believe that? Right there on national television!" Another shake of the head. Another glance toward the kitchen. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that if you don't act soon you might lose your chance. After all, Amanda is a beautiful woman!"

At last, something he could agree with. "Yes, she is."

"Here we go," Amanda's bright voice preceded her through the doorway.

Relieved, Lee jumped up to help her. He'd faced international terrorists who scared him less than Dotty West did.

"One apple pie--" Amanda set it down on the table. "--and one fresh pot of hot coffee." She gave Lee a quick smile of gratitude, then called back to the kitchen. "Boys, could you bring in some dessert plates?"

"Sure thing, Mom." Phillip called back. "Can we have ice cream, too?"

"Sure. Should be on the top shelf of the freezer."

"Awesome!"

The boys brought the plates and silverware, and Amanda delegated the task of serving the pie to Lee, handing over the ice cream and scoop to her mother. As Lee sliced and served, he couldn't help thinking how much he'd come to enjoy these family moments. Phillip and Jamie would probably be surprised to learn that sometimes Lee actually envied them.

When dinner was over, Lee took Amanda to one side. "Something's come up," he said quietly. "We need to talk."

She nodded. "Mother," she said, moving into the kitchen where Dotty and the boys were doing the dishes. "Lee and I are going to take a walk."

"All right, dear. You have a nice time."

"Boys, help your grandmother finish up here and then I want you to get your homework finished, okay?"

"Yes, Mom." The matched chorus, delivered with identical exaggerated patience, made Lee shake his head. Did they practice saying it in tandem like that or did it come with being siblings?

He stepped into the kitchen. "Goodnight, boys. And thank you for dinner. It was excellent."

"Goodnight, Lee," Jamie called from the dining room.

"Hey," Phillip said, "wanna shoot some hoops this weekend?"

"Sounds like fun." Lee crossed to Dotty, caught her hand in his, and enjoyed the look of pleased surprise on her face when he bent to kiss her fingers. "It's been lovely as ever, Dotty. Thanks."

She winked at him, and he saw the corners of her mouth turn up in a knowing smile. "Enjoy your walk."

Like mother like daughter. He shook his head at her and reached for Amanda's hand. "Ready to go?"

"All set."

He waited until they were through the gate and halfway down the block. Then he pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him.

"Billy called me into his office this morning."

"Oh? About what?"

"Records ran a background check." He watched understanding dawn in her eyes, saw the fear that followed on its heels, and felt a rushing need to protect that made him regret having to tell her any of it. But she had a right to know. It was her marriage, too.

"He knows?"

"Yeah."

"But we weren't due for background checks for at least six months!"

"Apparently they changed the rotation."

"What did he say?"

"Mostly he yelled." He pulled her in close for a second, needing her warmth. "He's worried about you, you know."

"About me? Why?"

"Same reason I am." He kissed the top her her head, drew back to look at her. "You're exhausted, Amanda." She would give everything she had to the people she loved, even to the point of making herself sick. And as her husband, it was his responsibility to see that she didn't work herself into the ground. "You can't keep going like this."

Her eyes slid away from his, but she didn't deny it. "You worry too much."

"No, the fact is, I don't worry enough." And boy did he feel like a jerk for that. He twined his fingers with hers and started her walking again. "I've known for a while that this mystery marriage thing wasn't going to work. I just didn't know what to do about it." Somewhere nearby a dog barked. Rat dog, the colonel would call it. High pitched and yippy.

"Sweetheart, we've talked about this."

"Apparently not enough." He squeezed her hand. "And some of the things Billy said made a lot of sense."

"Such as?"

"Such as reminding me that our relationship isn't exactly a well-kept secret. The gossip mill's been in high gear for months."

"But as long as we don't confirm it . . . "

"Amanda, you know as well as I do that it doesn't work that way. All it takes is one person thinking he can use you and the boys to get to me. And they aren't going to bother with a records search along the way." It would work, too. He'd never be able to watch her suffer. The boys either, for that matter. How ironic that his greatest strength was also his biggest weakness.

She sighed. "You're right. Of course you're right." They were halfway down the next block before she spoke again. "So what's Billy going to do?"

"He wanted to pull you off Lullaby."

"No . . . " She stopped in her tracks. "He isn't going to, is he?"

He shook his head and prayed that he'd been right to talk Billy into letting her stay on the case. "I convinced him to let you see it through. But he thinks they'll do their own background check."

"That shouldn't matter, should it? I mean sure they'll find out I'm married, but I'll just tell them I thought I'd have a better chance at the job as a single mother."

"It shouldn't matter, no." And he hoped like hell it wouldn't. "But he made me promise we'd pull the plug if it looked like you'd been made."

"Well that's not going to happen, so he can just stop worrying."

"He also wants us to come clean about our marriage."

"Did you tell him why we'd decided to keep it a secret?"

"Of course I did."

"And?"

"He reminded me that my parents were agents." He wished they were still alive. He'd ask them how they made it work.

"Oh, no." There was sympathy in her eyes.

"Yeah." One thing about Billy. He never pulled his punches. It was part of what made him a good leader--and a good friend. "They were married, Amanda. They were married and they had a family, and they didn't try to hide any of it."

"And they died." She said it quietly, her gaze soft on his.

"But not because of that." He'd been thinking hard about what Billy had said, and he had to admit the man made a lot of sense. He took Amanda's hands in his. "We can't be with the boys every minute."

"Well, that's certainly true. Sometimes I feel like I hardly see them at all anymore."

They started walking, their steps accompanied by crickets and birdsong. "Maybe we've been going about this all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe hiding our marriage isn't the answer."

She shot him an arch look. "Surely you aren't suggesting we get a divorce."

Even though he knew she was joking, the words sent a chill up his spine. "Not on your life." He tightened his hold on her hand and drew her closer to his side. "But maybe Billy's right. Maybe we should lay it all out on the table."

"Mother would kill us." There wasn't a trace of doubt in her tone.

"Or--" The solution came in a flash of inspiration. "We could just roll back the clock."

"What do you mean?"

He stopped and waited for her to meet his eyes. "Marry me again. In public this time."

"You know," she said, "we're already married, and it still sends shivers up my spine when you say that." She rested her hand against his chest. "But that still leaves us with the problem of how to keep the boys safe."

"No, it doesn't. That's part B of my master plan." Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, and across the street a sprinkler came on. "We also get the boys some training."

She looked at him, and despite the deepening shadows he could see the spark of amusement in her eyes. "You mean teach them how to hit?"

"Something like that." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, remembering that day in Billy's office. He wasn't proud of the way he'd behaved back then, but she'd stuck with it--and shown them all. "We'll get them into some self-defense classes, tell them what to look for when they're out in public . . . We'll even get pagers so they can contact us if they need us."

"We'll have to give them a reason. It isn't like when they were little. You can't just sign them up for something new without talking it over with them."

"Then we'll give them a reason. They're old enough to know we work for the government."

"See, that's just it. I'm afraid if we tell them that, and tell them they could be in danger, it'll scare them. Especially Jamie."

"Amanda--" He tried to order his thoughts. "They're young men now, both of them. Don't you think it's about time they started learning how to take care of themselves?"

She stiffened and pulled her hands free of his. "What do you think I've been teaching them all these years?"

"You've taught them responsibility, and respect, and the value of hard work," he said. "But there are other things a man needs to know."

"Like how to hit." Her tone was sardonic, and he knew she was remembering how he'd laughed at her own early requests for training, but he let her irritation roll off him. Getting defensive wouldn't solve anything.

"Sometimes, yeah." A black cat crossed the road at the other end of the block, its body little more than a shadow beneath the street lights. "But more than that, it's about knowing what danger looks like--knowing when to stand up to it and when to run away."

When she started walking again, he stayed beside her, but he didn't talk, and he didn't reach for her hand. It was a long time before she broke the silence.

"How much do you think we should tell them?"

He closed his eyes for a second, relieved. "Only as much as we have to."

They'd reached a small neighborhood park. He led her to a wooden bench in the shadow of an old maple tree and pulled her down to sit beside him. "There's one more thing."

She gave him a wary glance. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

A light breeze rustled the leaves above their heads. "It's about your mother."

"Mother?" She tilted her head, and he could see the confusion in her eyes. "What about her?"

"Do you know what she said to me tonight at dinner?"

"No. What?"

"She asked me when I was going to make an 'honest woman' out of you."

Amanda's eyes went wide. "She didn't."

"She most certainly did."

"Oh, Lee. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. She's right. It's about time."

He loved the way her whole face lit up when she smiled.

"I'm already an honest woman." Amusement deepened her voice, bringing out the husky tones that were so uniquely her.

"The most honest woman I know." He angled his body toward hers and took her hands. "And that's exactly why we need to go public." Unable to resist, he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. "So what do you say, Mrs. Stetson?" He kissed her again. "Wanna get married?"

He felt her laugh, a puff of air against his lips. "Lee . . . "

"Well?"

"Lee, this is ridiculous." But she kissed him anyway.

She tasted of apple pie and ice cream. "You aren't chicken, are you?"

"Of course I'm not chicken. I already married you once, didn't I?"

"But that was just us." He slid a hand up her arm and around to the back of her neck. "This time we'll invite the whole world."

"We're going to need a bigger back yard."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," she said. "I know what you mean." She touched his face, her fingers like butterfly wings against his skin. "Of course I'll marry you."

"For real this time, right? In front of God, the universe, and everyone?" He couldn't believe he was actually nervous.

She nodded. "In front of God"--she kissed him--"the universe"--another kiss--"and everyone."


	6. Chapter 6

The day would come when Shannon would probably look a lot like Melinda Kelly did now. The elven features were softer in the mother than the daughter, weathered by time and care, but the eyes had the same spark of intelligence, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth said she was no stranger to laughter. She dressed simply, in a faded cotton-print dress and sensible shoes, and she was unfailingly polite. But there was steel behind the quiet voice, and Amanda sensed that it was Melinda who ruled Shannon's family rather than the bigger, more blustery Miles Kelly.

There was pain in Mr. Kelly's hazel eyes, and worry that drew his brows together and thinned the corners of his mouth. But there'd been real affection in the way he'd drawn Shannon into a careful hug when he'd arrived at Beacons of Hope, and more than once Amanda had seen a hint of . . . curiosity maybe? . . . when his gaze had settled on his daughter's burgeoning stomach. She got the feeling that Shannon's pregnancy had shaken the foundations of his world, and he was still trying to find his balance.

"Daddy," Shannon was saying, "I can do this."

"What about school?" Mr. Kelly said. "How can you possibly hope to raise a child and attend to your education as well?"

"I'll find a way." Shannon's hands clenched into fists. "I know it won't be easy, but this baby is mine. She's _my_ responsibility."

"You're only a child yourself," her mother said, shaking her head. "How can you begin to understand what you're asking?"

Shannon turned on her. "You're right, Mama, I don't know. Not really." There was a faint creak as she shifted in the old rocking chair. "I've learned a lot here, and not just about what's happening to me, but about what's important in life." She stroked a hand over her stomach. "Do you remember when Uncle Nick had that terrible accident and you went to the police station every day to ask about his case?"

"Sure I do."

"I asked you once why you went all the way down there every day when you could just call. Do you remember what you said?"

Melinda shook her head.

"You said that since Uncle Nick couldn't stand for himself, it was our job as his family to stand for him." She glanced down to where her hand still rested on her stomach, then back up to her parents. "This baby is my family," she said quietly. "And since she can't stand for herself, I'm going to stand for her."

"That baby," Mr. Kelly said bitterly, "has already stolen the best years of your childhood. And now you want to give it your future, too?"

"She's a part of me, Daddy." Shannon's voice was strained, but there was conviction behind it. "--and of you, too. Can't you see that?"

"What I see is a young woman who gave her most precious possession to the first boy who--"

"Miles!" Mrs. Kelly's voice was sharp. "Shannon . . . " she said in a softer voice when her husband subsided. "We talked about all this before we brought you here. I thought we agreed . . . "

"No, Mom. _We_ didn't agree. You and Dad agreed. I was too scared to even understand what was happening." She glanced over at Amanda, who gave her what she hoped was a supportive nod. "This is _my_ life. And it's my baby." Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't stand the thought of handing her over to strangers, of never knowing where she lives or who she looks like. I don't want to miss her first birthday or her first day of school." Her voice broke. She gulped in air. "_I_ want to be the one she calls Mommy."

Amanda touched Shannon's shoulder and offered her a tissue. With a watery smile, Shannon accepted it and swiped at her eyes.

"She moves all the time now, Mama. Sometimes I can even tell if it's a foot or an elbow. Do you know what that's like? Can you remember?"

Mrs. Kelly's expression softened. "Of course I remember."

"And when she gets the hiccups?" Shannon tried to smile and ended up sniffling instead. "It's like I swallowed a cricket or something."

Getting up from her place beside her husband, Mrs. Kelly crossed to her daughter and dropped down to crouch beside her. She took Shannon's hands, and Amanda couldn't help but notice the contrast between them. Melinda's, work-worn and callused, against Shannon's softer, as yet untried skin.

"Are you sure about this?" Melinda asked her. "We can't keep changing our minds, you know. This baby,"--she rested their joined hands against the bright yellow fabric of Shannon's maternity blouse--"deserves a real family."

"We are a real family." Shannon lifted her eyes from her mother to look at her dad. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, index fingers rubbing slow circles against his temples. "Aren't we?"

Amanda saw the look that passed between husband and wife and wondered if she and Lee would ever have that ability to have an entire conversation without saying a word. Then, very slowly, Miles nodded.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. "Yeah, we are."

********************

********************

"You should have seen her, Lee." They were in Rock Creek Park, taking advantage of the beautiful day to share a quick lunch before they went their separate ways again. "She was amazing."

"You're proud of her," he said, as he tossed a bread crust to a desperate looking squirrel. "But do you really think she made the right decision?"

"I don't know." Sobered by the thought of what lay ahead for young Shannon Kelly, Amanda shook her head. "It's tough, raising a family on your own."

She felt his eyes on her, but she didn't look up from her sandwich. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and she was sharing a picnic lunch with her husband. She didn't want to think about the past.

"Didn't you say her family was going to help her?"

She nodded, relieved that he'd chosen not to push. "I really hope it works out. She's a good kid." She sipped her lemonade. Swallowed. "It's a tough decision, and for most of the girls I've met at the home, adoption's probably the best choice. But I really think Shannon could make it work."

"Amanda, you read people better than anyone I've ever known. If you think Shannon's going to make it, I'm sure she will."

Emboldened by the bit of bread crust, the squirrel had crept closer, and now it sat up on its hind legs, whiskers quivering. Lee tossed the last bite of his sandwich to it, and they laughed when it pounced on the morsel and stuffed it into its mouth, making the tiny cheeks puff out alarmingly.

"Greedy little thing, isn't he?"

"Spoiled is more like it. I bet the squirrel population in this park would drop by half if they had to find their own food." He pulled her to her feet. "Come on. Let's take a walk."

"Uh oh." She knew that voice. It always meant trouble.

"What?"

"You only use that tone of voice when you've got bad news."

"That's not true." His indignation was patently false, and it made her laugh.

"Is too." But she had another twenty minutes before she had to be back at work, and it was only a five minute drive. She fell into step beside him even as she gave him a stern look. "All right. Give it to me straight. I can take it."

He tilted his head at her, a smile tugging at his lips. Then he sobered. "Francine and I are going to be doing some night surveillance this week."

"At Beacons?"

"Yeah." He paused while a biker rode past."It's the last T we have to cross before we can put this thing to bed."

"Wait a minute." She pulled him around to look at her. "What do you mean, 'put it to bed'?"

Irritation bloomed in his voice, the way it often did when he was feeling defensive. "We've been working Lullaby for more than two weeks now," he said, "and we've got nothing."

"What about the pictures?" She felt . . . she didn't know what she felt. It wasn't fear, exactly. She just had this gut feeling that something was very, very wrong.

"What about them?"

"Lee, there's something there. I'm certain of it." She felt her shoulders tense and knew she was talking too fast, but she couldn't help it. They just needed a little more time.

But he was already shaking his head.

"We can't keep this thing open forever just because you've got a feeling!" He lowered his voice. "Look. Billy's giving us one more week. If we can't find something solid by then . . . "

She shouldn't be surprised. Hers was only one of dozens of Agency projects--and one that hinged on a flimsy anonymous tip at that. But she still couldn't let it go. Not yet. With a sigh, she checked her watch.

"I'd better get back," she said. "I don't want to be late."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward him, then paused to give her a searching look. "Wait a minute." Suspicion bloomed in his eyes.  
Wait just a minute. I know that look."

"What look?"

"The one you're wearing right now."

"I'm not wearing any look."

"Oh yes you are. And it always means trouble." His hands tightened on her shoulders and he gave her a little shake. "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing . . . Don't."

"Lee." She shook her head. "I'm a trained agent. I'd never put an operation at risk just to make a point." She saw the shot hit home. There'd been a time in Lee's career when he'd done exactly that. Regularly.

He blew out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, look. Just . . . Keep me informed, okay?"

Tucking her hand behind her back, she crossed her fingers. "You know I will."

"You'd better." He drew her close for a quick hug, then turned her around and pointed her toward the parking lot. "Now, go. I'll see you tonight."

She threw him a quick smile over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll be looking forward to it."

********************

********************

"Mrs. King, do you have a moment?"

Amanda looked up from the donations she'd been sorting, squinting against the afternoon sun that slanted through the open window. Alex Benakov stood in the doorway of the small workroom. His arms were folded across his chest and his gaze was troubled.

"Certainly." She folded the last blouse and put it in the mending basket. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm hoping you can clear up a small mystery."

"I'll do my best."

"Yes," he said, giving her an odd look. "I'm sure you will." He moved further into the room and closed the door, then turned to face her again. "It's come to my attention that you were not entirely forthcoming on your employment application."

Stiff. Formal. Rehearsed, maybe? "What do you mean?"

He moved closer, studying her with those piercing green eyes. "Why did you choose not to disclose your marriage?"

She'd been worrying about this moment since Lee had first told her of Billy's concerns, so it was a relief to have it out in the open.

"My . . . "

"Your marriage, yes."

"Oh. Well." She hoped she seemed convincingly flustered. "I didn't think it mattered."

He tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed. "You do not have the look of a newlywed about you."

"What look is that, sir?" And how many men did she know who would even notice such a thing?

"I see no stars in your eyes," he said. "And you do not rush away at the end of your shift." His gaze settled on her hands. "Nor do you wear a ring."

She'd known he was observant, but she hadn't realized he had a poetic streak. "My husband works, too," she said, improvising. "Night shift. He usually leaves for work before I get home."

"And the ring?"

She gave a slight shrug. "If I wore my rings to work, you would've noticed and asked me about it. I was afraid if you found out I'd lied, you'd fire me."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Why did you not reveal your marriage on your application? What made you believe such a thing was necessary?"

Amanda dropped her eyes and made a show of toying with the frayed hem of a worn nightgown. "It's just . . . well . . . " And then, rushing ahead. "You see, I really wanted the job, and I thought, if you thought I was a single mother . . . "

She risked a glance up, and saw understanding in Benakov's eyes. "You played on my sympathies."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It was really unforgivable." Then, deciding to take a risk, she straightened her spine and wished a sheen of tears into her eyes. "If you'll just give me a few minutes, I'd like to say good bye to the girls before I leave."

"Leave?" he asked, obviously puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, I just assumed I was fired."

"You would be incorrect in that assumption," he said calmly. "You have become a valuable employee here at Beacons of Hope. I do not wish to lose you over such a small misunderstanding."

Amanda's sigh of relief was real enough, but what would Lee say when she told him the risk she'd taken? What if Benakov had accepted her resignation?

"Is there," Alex asked, "anything else that I should know?"

"No, sir. That was it, sir."

There was a quick, sharp knock on the door, and it opened to reveal the concerned face of one of the nurses.

"You're needed upstairs," she said, speaking not to Alex Benakov, but to Amanda. "Shannon Kelly's gone into premature labor, and she's asking for you."

Amanda shot a worried glance at Benakov, and at his slight nod she hurried out of the room without waiting to see if he followed her.

********************

********************

Shannon looked up with a wan smile. "Thanks for coming up," she said. "I didn't know if you would."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Amanda said cheerfully. But she saw the fear in Shannon's eyes and the way her hands fisted in the sheets. "How are you feeling?"

"Scared, mostly. The doctor says my baby should be okay, even though it's a little early."

"I'm sure she'll be just fine." Amanda glanced at the heart monitor, then gave Shannon a confident smile. "She certainly has a nice strong heartbeat." She saw the onset of a contraction, and took Shannon's hand in hers. "Breathe," she urged. "Just concentrate on breathing. Let your body do the work."

First time labor nearly always took a long time, and six hours later, Amanda was still by Shannon's side. She'd left briefly to call home and let Mother know what was going on, then again to call Shannon's parents. She didn't dare call Lee from the home, so she'd just have to trust Mother to pass on the message. Shannon's parents were going to wait until Miles could get home from work, and then they had a three hour drive to get to the home, but Amanda thought they'd still be there in plenty of time to be with Shannon when the baby came.

Until the heart monitor began to beep alarmingly and the nurse hurried in and, with urgent but controlled efficiency, slipped an oxygen mask over Shannon's mouth and nose. And then Shannon's eyes rolled back in her head, and she slipped into unconsciousness. After that, things happened fast, and Amanda could only do her best to stay out of the way.

The doctor rushed in, did a quick examination, and turned to the nurse. "Move her down the hall," he said. "And prep her for surgery." He turned, and seeing Amanda, nodded. "Mrs. King, right?"

"That's right."

"We're going to have to do an emergency c-section."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Frenzied activity around Shannon's bed was accompanied by a series of terse commands from the head nurse.

"We're certainly going to do our best. She's young and strong. Those are points in her favor."

"But?"

"But we need to get in there fast. If we're dealing with a rupture, as I suspect I am, we could lose them both."

Seconds later Amanda found herself alone in the empty and too-silent room. Stunned, she sank into a chair and dropped her head into her hands, fighting tears. Shannon was such a sweet girl, so full of life and hope. She had to be all right.

She had to.

*********************

*********************

The ancient leather chair creaked as Gregory Vanek leaned back. With slow, deliberate movements, he leafed through the series of photographs he'd just finished developing in his darkroom. They were good. But then, it was a simple matter to take a good pictures on a sunny day. Any fool could do it. The real challenge lay in the mastery of darkness and shadow. And he had succeeded here, better even than he'd hoped.

"Tell me your secrets," he murmured to the empty room. He reached for a magnifying glass, and setting the top photo on the surface of the scarred desk, leaned in to study it more closely.

"You have very expressive eyes," he observed. "They really are quite lovely." Straightening, he tapped the photograph with the tip of his finger. "And so honest. You," he said, "are a woman in love." Apart from holding hands while they walked, and that one brief hug, they'd barely touched each other in the park, but the closeup shot of her eyes gave her away.

He straightened, reached for another photo, and leaned in again. "The plot thickens." Setting the two photographs side by side, he moved from one to the other and back again. Satisfied, he put down the magnifying glass and leaned back in his chair once more.

Point one: Mrs. King had lied about being married.

Point two: According to the marriage license, her husband's name was Lee Stetson.

Point three: Mrs. King had enjoyed a picnic lunch at Rock Creek Park today--with one Leonard Peterson, whose expression was somewhat less revealing than Mrs. King's, but intriguing nonetheless.

Point four: Leonard Peterson was also married, to a woman named--he flipped open the manila folder at his elbow, checked the application--Felicity. Odd name, that.

Point five: Mr. and Mrs. Peterson had applied to Beacons of Hope as prospective adoptive parents, and by all accounts presented themselves as a happily married couple.

There was a mystery here, and Gregory Vanek didn't like mysteries. He reached for the telephone.

********************

********************

Amanda was waiting when the doctor emerged from the small surgical unit. Seeing her standing by the deserted nurses' station, he crossed to her, a somber look on his lined face.

"It was a close call," he said, "but I think she's going to be okay."

Amanda let out a sigh of relief. "What about her baby?"

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I'm afraid she didn't make it. Stillborn. It happens sometimes in cases like this."

"Oh, no." Horrified, Amanda stepped back to lean against the wall. _Oh, Lee. I wish you were here._ She swallowed hard. "Can I see her?"

"We had to put her under for the surgery. She'll probably sleep until morning."

"Right. I understand."

"If you'll excuse me--" He gestured down the hall. "I need to call Miss Kelly's parents and tell them what's happened. I'm sure they'll want to come."

"They're already on their way," Amanda said. "Shannon asked me to call them when she went into labor."

"Ah. Well then all that remains is to notify Mr. Benakov."

She didn't allow herself to relax until he'd left. Then she dropped onto the stool behind the counter and lowered her face into her hands, her heart breaking for the young woman who lay sleeping just a few yards away. Anticipation to devastation in a few short hours. Life could be so cruel.

She was still sitting there when the door of the surgical unit opened again, and a nurse stepped out. She carried a small bundle in her arms. It was swaddled in the familiar pink, white and blue blanket Amanda remembered from when her own boys were born, and somehow that made it all so much more poignant. It was Shannon's baby. She was sure of it, even as her chest ached and her throat seized with tears. She started to get up, to say something, when she heard a tiny, thin cry and saw the woman cast a nervous glance downward before hurrying off.

Dropping to a crouch, Amanda inched around the counter and watched the woman walk down the hall. When she turned the corner into the next wing, Amanda darted down the hall after her. Peering around the corner, she saw the nurse glance up and down the hall before she unlocked a door to a room Amanda had thought was a storage closet. She disappeared inside, and Amanda straightened and started back toward the elevator, her mind whirling.


	7. Chapter 7

Normally, Lee was the one prone to pace, but tonight he found himself sitting on the couch while Amanda flung herself from one end of the living room to the other and back.

"That baby isn't dead, Lee," she said again. "I don't know what's going on, but that little girl is most definitely alive."

"Amanda . . . " He wished she'd sit down. She was making him dizzy. "Are you absolutely certain you didn't make a mistake? You said it was quiet. Maybe you heard the door hinge, or the nurse's shoes against the tile, and you wanted the baby to be alive so badly you imagined it was her. It happens."

The look she shot him would have cowed anybody else, but Lee met it calmly. It wouldn't do either one of them any good if he got upset, too.

"No," she said in disgust. "It wasn't a squeaky hinge, and I didn't imagine it. I'm telling you, that baby cried." Three steps. Turn. Three steps back. "But I don't understand. Why would they lie about something like that?"

He lifted his hands, as baffled as she was. "I honestly don't know." Getting to his feet, he crossed to her side. "Look, I'm supposed to meet Francine in an hour. We'll go over there, have a look around . . . " He shrugged lightly. "See what we can see. Okay?"

"I want to go with you."

"No."

"Yes."

"Amanda . . . No." He took her by the shoulders. "Look, I know you want to go, and I understand why. Honest I do. But look at you." He lifted his hands to frame her face, brushed his thumbs across the dark circles under her eyes. "When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I'm fine."

She'd once sworn to him that she was only a little bit stubborn. Sometime they'd have to talk about that, because if she was only a little bit stubborn, he was only a little bit in love.

"No," he said. "You're not." And once this case was over he was going to find a way to get her away from here for a while. Shaking his head, he pressed a gentle kiss against one eyelid and then the other. "I'm not doubting your abilities. You know that."

For a long moment, she just stood there. Then he felt her shoulders drop as she let out a sigh.

"Go home," he said quietly. "Spend some time with Dotty and the boys." He touched his finger to the tip of her nose. "Get some rest." Letting his hand settle into the curve of her neck, he brushed his lips against her cheek. "Let me and Francine take over for a little while."

She looked up at him, her frustration almost palpable. "You'll call me?"

The words made him smile. "I'd better, since I know that if I don't you'll come looking for me."

"You bet I will."

Amusement flickered in her eyes, and finally, finally, he felt her relax. He swallowed a sigh of relief, not wanting her to realize how deeply worried he really was. Instead he settled for pulling her close and resting his cheek against her hair.

"We're going to sort this out, Amanda." He had a terrifying suspicion that if they didn't, it would tear her apart, and he wasn't going to let that happen. Closing his eyes, he rubbed slow circles on her back. "No matter what it takes."

"Didn't you say Billy was only giving me one more week?"

"I said he was giving _us_ one more week," he corrected her. "And that just means we'll have to sort it out fast. But hey-" He drew back and waited for her to lift her head. "We do some of our best work under pressure."

She gave him a doubtful look and graciously didn't remind him that those were usually the times when they came closest to getting themselves killed, too.

********************

********************

It was always a little strange to see Francine dressed for surveillance work--sort of like dressing a flamingo in a pillowcase. Gone were the bright colors, heavy makeup, and perfect hairstyle. Instead she wore a serviceable black turtleneck over dark jeans, and her hair was bundled into a simple knit cap.

They'd signed out a black sedan from the motor pool and were now parked across the street from the entrance to Beacons of Hope. They took turns with the binoculars while a pair of matching Styrofoam cups in the drink holders filled the car with the smell of hot coffee.

"Lee, this is ridiculous." Francine lowered the glasses and passed them over to him. "You can't see anything from here."

"We could try the back again." He lifted the binoculars and scanned the entrance once more. Still quiet. It'd been that way since they got here two hours ago and would probably stay that way all night. He dreaded telling Amanda. Somehow he was certain she was expecting the case to break tonight.

"That's even worse. That back wall has to be ten feet high, and I don't know about you, but I sure didn't see any way to get over it. No, what we really need-" she stared morosely through the front window. "-is to get past that gate."

"Locked and wired," Lee said, shaking his head. "I checked."

Francine gave him an arch look. "Doesn't Amanda have the code?"

"She has a pass card, but it's timed access. Besides, they'll know if her card is used."

"And you don't want to draw any attention to her."

"Exactly."

She angled her body in the seat and gave him a penetrating stare. "You know, Lee, if I didn't know better I'd say you were off the market."

Dread clutched at his stomach. He did not want to have this conversation with her. He reached for his coffee, avoiding her gaze. "What gives you that impression?"

Instead of answering right away, she studied him for a moment. "There was a time when I would have been the first one to swear that you would never be satisfied with just one woman. And why should you? God knows you've been cherry-picking your way through DC's social scene for years. But not anymore. Somehow, Amanda King has tamed the great Lee Stetson." There was a disbelief in her voice, and a hint of grudging respect.

"Francine . . . "

She waved him off. "Oh, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Leaning in close, she gave him a conspiratorial smile. "I won't tell a soul."

"Gee. Thanks." He wondered if she could see him rolling his eyes in the darkness, then decided it was probably a good thing that she couldn't.

"How did she do it, anyway?"

"Do what?"

Her exasperated huff was loud in the quiet car. "How did she reel you in?"

"Francine, I'm not a fish."

"No," she said thoughtfully. "No, I suppose not." Another sigh, this one resigned. "You probably don't know anyway. After all, it never would've worked if you'd known what she was up to." She reached for the binoculars again, apparently losing interest in the discussion. "I'll just have to talk to her myself one of these days." The wink she shot at Lee almost made him groan aloud. "Woman to woman."

He made a mental note to warn Amanda and turned his attention back to the job at hand. And it was a good thing he did, because just then the wrought-iron gate swung open. Since Francine still had the binoculars, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and jotted down the make, model, and license plate number of the car that drove through a moment later.

"Looks like two people in the front," Francine reported, all business. "One male, one female. Average height and weight. She's wearing a hat. Gray hair. The man's younger. Real swarthy type." She lowered the glasses and glanced over at Lee. "Bodyguard?"

He shrugged and turned the key in the ignition, glad they were driving an inconspicuous sedan instead of the regular surveillance van. "Let's see where they're going."

They followed the car to the airport, pulling up several lengths behind it at the departures gate. Francine had already taken off the knit cap, and she ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out as she reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. Lee ignored her, his eyes on their quarry, interest quickening as he saw the woman climb out of the car and open the back door. When she straightened, she held a small bundle in the crook of one arm. Lee watched her reach in again and come out with a suitcase. A moment later the car pulled away and the woman walked into the terminal.

"See you inside," Francine said, and then she was out and gone, leaving Lee to park the car.

Even at this hour the airport was busy, but he finally spotted Francine's bright hair near the Air France ticket counter.

"Paris," she said. "And she had a baby with her."

"What flight?"

They were already moving toward the departure gates, and they got there just in time for Francine to point out the woman as she started down the boarding ramp.

"Should we stop her?"

"No," Lee said, frustrated. "All we'd end up doing is showing our hand, and it isn't time for that, yet."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know," he said, still staring after the mystery woman. "But I'm damned sure going to find out."

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********************

The first thing he noticed when he finally got back to Amanda's house was that there was a light on in the kitchen. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the car and walked around to the back.

The door was unlocked, a sure sign that she hadn't yet gone to bed. It didn't surprise him, even though he wished that just this once she'd done as he asked.

"Hi," he said, keeping his voice low as he closed the door behind him. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"And I thought you were going to call," she fired back, glancing up from her place at the table.

She'd been doing the bills, and as she set the paperwork aside it occurred to him that this was something else they should be sharing now.

"I would have if the light hadn't been on when I drove by." He watched her turn off the adding machine and push back her chair. "What are you doing up, anyway?"

"I had a few things I needed to get caught up on," she said. "Besides, I didn't want to miss your call."

He stepped back and lowered his arms, elbows straight, fingers splayed wide. "Okay?"

"Hmm." She moved in close and ran her hands over his chest and along his ribs. He closed his eyes at her touch, his breath hitching in his throat. God, she felt good. "Yes," she said finally, her eyes alight with humor. "Yes, I think you'll do just fine."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. If they were a normal married couple, she'd turn out the lights while he checked to make sure the doors were locked. Then they'd wander up to bed together, talking quietly about their day. After checking on the boys they'd move on to their own room and get ready for bed in companionable silence. Maybe they'd make slow, sweet love, or maybe she'd just snuggle into his arms and murmur something about how nice it was to have somebody around to keep her warm at night. And he'd kiss the top of her head and tell her he loved her, smiling at her sleepy reply. He wanted that life, all of it, so badly he ached with it.

But Amanda, ever the pragmatic one, had other things on her mind. She gave him a quick hug, and stepped back.

"Well?" she said. "What happened?"

"Another day," he said flippantly, clenching his jaw against the empty feeling that swept over him when she moved away. "Another mystery."

"Lee . . . "

"Come on." He sighed, took her hand. "Let's sit down."

He waited until she was settled before filling her in on what had happened. When he reached the part about the airport, she stared at him, eyes wide.

"Lee, that's it! Those babies aren't dying at all, they're being stolen!"

"Amanda . . . " He'd known she would react this way. "Don't jump to conclusions. There's probably a perfectly logical explanation." He didn't believe it any more than she did, but without some solid evidence, their hands were tied.

She gave him a dubious look, but didn't argue. "So what now?"

"Now I try to find out who that woman was."

"You got her name?"

He nodded. "From the ticket agent. And I've got the license plate numbers on that car, too, so we'll know more by tomorrow afternoon."

"Good." She settled against him again. "And you'll talk to Billy?"

"Yes, I'll talk to Billy." And try like hell to buy a little more time, but she didn't need that worry to deal with on top of everything else. And then, because he knew she would've called to find out--"How's Shannon?"

"She was awake briefly, but she's sleeping again now."

"Does she know what happened?"

"The nurse told her." The sadness in her voice had him tightening his arm around her shoulders. "Apparently she took it pretty hard."

"You said she was a strong girl."

"She is."

"Then she'll get through it," he said. "And you'll be there to help."

"Lee--" she sat up. "What if that was Shannon's baby you saw tonight?

He shook his head. "You're jumping to conclusions again."

"Seriously. What if it was? What if right this instant Shannon's tiny baby girl is on her way to Europe?"

He kept his response calm. She was worried enough without him adding fuel to the fire. "First we prove it," he said, "and then we bring her back home."

"You're right," she said. "I know you're right. But I don't like it. I wish I could go up there tomorrow morning and put that baby back in her mother's arms where she belongs."

Her idealism was one of the things he loved about her, but it didn't always mesh very well with reality. "One step at a time. We don't even know for sure that Shannon's baby didn't die like the doctor said."

Annoyance flared in her eyes. "Oh, now do we have to go into all that again?"

"No," he said firmly. "We don't." He got to his feet and pulled her up beside him. "What we do have to do," he said, "is get you into bed."

She glanced down at her watch and gave a rueful shake of her head. "I guess it is getting pretty late."

He kissed her, lingering over the taste and feel of her. Then he touched his forehead to hers. "We need to make this right," he said. "I can't keep walking away from you every night."

"I know." She leaned against him, and her arms settled around his waist. "Soon."

"How about as soon as this case is over."

He couldn't see her eyes, but he heard the smile in her voice when she answered. "Sounds like a plan."

"Good."

He couldn't resist one last kiss before he left, and once back at his car, he watched until he saw the kitchen light turn off and then, a few seconds later, the one in her bedroom turn on.

"Sleep well," he whispered when that, too, turned off. Then he yawned, climbed into his car, and headed home to his own bed.

********************

********************

Amanda tapped lightly on Shannon's door. When there was no answer, she cracked it open.

"Shannon? It's Mrs. King. May I come in?"

"I don't care."

Shannon was lying on her side, staring out the window. She didn't move when Amanda came in except to throw a listless glance over her shoulder.

"Hey, Shannon. How are you feeling? Are you in much pain?"

"I'm fine."

Amanda crossed to the window and opened the shade. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"I guess so."

With a sigh, Amanda sat down in the chair beside the bed, rested a gentle hand on the narrow shoulder. "Shannon . . . I'm so sorry."

Silent tears coursed down Shannon's cheeks. With a grimace, she rolled to her other side, away from Amanda. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to," Amanda said, "but I'm here if you change your mind." She sat back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap, hoping that her silent presence might offer some small comfort to the heartbroken girl.

Time passed slowly. Amanda sat with Shannon until her parents came in, but even later, when she moved about the home talking with the other girls and looking after her regular duties, she couldn't get Shannon and her baby out of her mind. And she kept thinking about the nurse she'd seen outside the surgical unit. Amanda hadn't seen her around before, and she wasn't part of the staff Benakov had introduced her to when she first started working at the home. So who was she? And what had happened to that baby she'd been carrying? Deciding that at the very least she needed to get a look inside that storage closet, she formulated a simple plan.

Afternoons were usually quiet at Beacons of Hope. The girls spent the time in their rooms, resting or studying, and most of the staff retired to their offices to catch up on paperwork. Checking her pocket to make sure she hadn't lost her lock pick, Amanda climbed the stairs to the second floor.

As she'd hoped, the floor appeared to be deserted. The delivery rooms were empty, and the nurse was tucked away in the dispensary with a paperback book. Amanda had checked the schedule earlier, so she knew that none of the girls were due for physicals or blood tests until the following morning, and with Shannon back downstairs in her own room, there was no need even to keep the lights on up here.

She moved confidently down the dim hallway, not wanting to seem suspicious to any medical staff that might happen to come along. But nobody did, and she reached the storage room safely. There she paused. This was the tricky part. It would take several dangerous seconds to bypass the lock on the door, and if anybody spotted her she'd have some hasty explaining to do.

Heart racing, she slid the pick out of her pocket and went to work on the door. When the tumblers slid neatly into place after only a few seconds, she offered up a quick prayer of gratitude to God and Leatherneck. Then she pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it silently behind her.

No windows. She fumbled long the wall for a switch, blinked when bright light flooded the room.

An empty isolette stood against the far wall, a fully stocked changing table beside it. On her right, Amanda saw a long stainless steel counter with an inset sink. A small hot plate was pushed back against the wall, unplugged. Above the sink, a pair of glass-fronted cabinets held bottles, cans of formula, and sterile packages of rubber nipples.

A quick search of the built-in desk on the other wall revealed only a worn pencil and a note pad. There was also a telephone. It was single-line style rather than the more complicated phones she'd seen elsewhere in the home. She picked up the handset and hit the redial button. The voice that answered was gruff and unfamiliar, and Amanda hung up quickly.

She picked up the pencil and rubbed it lightly over the message pad, hoping to reveal some remnant of what had been written on the previous sheet. The old trick worked, and she tore off the sheet, folded it, and tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. Putting the pencil back where she found it, she crossed to the door and gave a quick look around the room, making sure nothing had been disturbed.

Then she turned off the light, crossed her fingers that the hallway was still empty, and eased the door open.

All clear. The breath she'd been holding escaped on sigh of relief as she hurried back down the hallway.


	8. Chapter 8

"Ivana Procházka," Lee said, reading the data off the computer. "Czechoslovakian national. Fifty-three years old." He glanced up, meeting Francine's eyes across the monitor. "She's a nurse."

"So?"

"So Amanda said she saw a nurse carrying a baby out of Shannon Kelly's room, and she swears she heard that baby cry."

"You think they're smuggling babies behind the iron curtain?" She looked doubtful.

"It makes sense, doesn't it? That anonymous tip we got specifically mentioned the StB, and Benakov's originally from Czechoslovakia. Ivana flies to Paris, then on to Vienna." He shrugged. "From there it's just a short hop into Czechoslovakia . . . If the StB really is tied into this thing it'd be a simple matter to get past the border guards.

"But what in the world for?"

"I don't know." He tapped the top of the monitor and straightened. "But I bet I know who does."

"Benakov."

"You got it."

Francine pushed her chair back and got to her feet. "We need to talk to Billy," she said.

"Hey." He stopped her, one hand on her arm. "Cool your jets. This is Amanda's operation, remember?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So we can't pull the rug out from under her." He glanced toward Billy's office. "She's done all the groundwork on this thing. She deserves to be in on this, too."

Francine glanced at her watch. "Are you sure you want to wait? It's already late. If we don't move fast, we could lose him."

"Beacons of Hope has been around for almost twenty years. They probably think they're invincible by now. No," he shook his head. "We'll wait for Amanda."

********************

********************

Amanda glanced down at the paper in her hand as she hurried through the parking lot.

_The library called. Mockingbird is three weeks overdue._

The library was the agency of course, and the three weeks overdue part was her cue that it was urgent. It was kind of exciting, really. Her first coded message.

It felt good to be back at IFF, even it if was only for a little while. She'd missed the Q Bureau, Mrs. Marston, and even the closet elevator more than she'd expected to. More than that, she'd missed working with Lee every day. It was hard enough not spending the nights with her husband. Now they weren't even seeing each other during the day.

He was waiting for her when she exited the elevator, and it felt like coming home when he gave her a quick smile and settled his hand into its customary position at the small of her back. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." Returning his smile, she fell into step beside him. "What's going on?"

"Francine's waiting for us in Billy's office," he said. "I'll tell you all about it when we get there."

A wave of greetings followed her across the busy bullpen, tribute to the fact that she really did belong. The years of hard work had paid off in the respect of colleagues who used to laugh at the idea of a suburban housewife joining the agency.

Billy's door was open, so they went on in.

"Amanda," he said, half rising from his chair. "I'm glad you could get here so quickly."

"Hello, sir." Amanda seated herself in one of the chairs and nodded at Francine. "Hello, Francine."

Francine nodded, her gaze flickering between her and Lee. Something about the look in her eyes made Amanda wonder what she was thinking.

"All right, people," Billy said. "Walk me through it."

Francine and Lee looked at Amanda.

"Your case," Lee said, and Francine nodded.

Suddenly nervous, Amanda took a deep breath and started at the beginning. She told him about the unusual mortality rate, the research she'd done on the mothers who'd lost their babies, and what had happened the night Shannon's baby had been born. Then Lee took over and she listened while he told Billy about the woman they'd followed to the airport.

"Her name is Ivana Procházka," he concluded. "She's a fifty-three year old Czechoslovakian national, and a registered nurse. She's been to the states a couple of times a year for the past ten years."

Amanda suddenly remembered the scrap of paper in her pocket. "And one more thing." She unfolded it and handed it across the desk to Billy. "I found this today. I thought maybe you'd know what it meant."

His frown deepened as he studied the words. "Where did you find this?"

Amanda glanced uneasily at Lee. She'd promised him in the park that she wouldn't do anything without talking it over with him first.

"It was in that room I saw at the home. The one the nurse carried the baby into."

She sensed rather than saw Lee's reaction. "I thought you said that door was locked," he said.

"It was." She looked up at him, not defiant, but not apologetic, either. She'd been doing her job, and they both knew it. When she saw reluctant acceptance dawn in his eyes, she turned back.

Billy stood to examine the map. "Gmünd," he said, pointing with his finger, "is in Austria. Small place. Right on the border. Maybe fifteen hundred people. And Ceské-Velenice is just across the border." He turned back to Amanda. "In Czechoslovakia."

"So the note . . . "

He nodded. "Probably told Ivana where to cross." He moved back to his desk, and dropped heavily into the chair. "Okay, We've got an elevated infant mortality rate, pretty teenage mothers, a dead baby that might not really be dead, and a mysterious flight to Europe," said Billy. "Does that about sum it up?"

Amanda hoped some day she could learn to sum up three weeks of hard work that neatly. "Yes, sir."

"And based on that, you think somebody's selling American babies on the Czechoslovakian black market."

"Yes, sir," she said again.

"But what would be the point?" he asked. "I mean, don't they have babies of their own in Czechoslovakia? Why go to the all the trouble and expense to steal American babies?"

"I don't know, sir." Amanda glanced over at Lee. "That's what we still need to figure out."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Night op," Lee said promptly. "We go in, have a look around. . . " He shrugged. "See what we can find."

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Last I checked, breaking and entering was still illegal."

"It wouldn't be breaking and entering, sir. Not if I go." Amanda leaned forward in her chair. "They'll let me in if I tell them I'm there to check on Shannon."

Billy considered that for a minute, then nodded. "All right. But I want this to be quick and quiet. Just the three of you. Oh, and-" He gave them a stern look. "Leatherneck's just gotten in some of those new cellular phones. Take a couple along for the ride."

"No. Billy . . . " Lee shook his head. "Those things weigh a ton. And half the time they don't get signal anyway. We'll take along a couple of two-way radios. They'll do the job just fine."

"Nice quiet op like this--" Billy shrugged, his expression implacable. "Seems like the perfect time to field test some new gear."

"Sir," Amanda said. "Is that really necessary? I'm sure we won't run into any trouble."

"One thing you'll learn when you've been in this business as long as I have," Billy said, "is that trouble always shows up when you least expect it."

********************

********************

Thunder rumbled as Lee watched Amanda slide her Beacons of Hope identification card into the card reader at the front gate. There was a brief delay, and then the voice of the night watchman echoed through the small speaker.

"Good evening, Mrs. King. May I ask the reason for your after-hours visit?"

"Yes, sir," Amanda said, leaning out of the window to make sure the microphone would pick up her voice. "I'm here to check on Shannon Kelly."

"One moment please."

The gate swung open, and Amanda drove through, pulling the car to a stop in the shadow of a large oak tree to let Francine out. When the door closed behind her and she slipped into the shadows, Amanda gave Lee a tight smile.

"Ready?"

"Sure am." He knew she still hated this part of the job--not just because of the danger, but also because she'd never gotten used to what she called snooping. And it didn't help that she seemed to have a genuine respect for Alex Benakov. He touched her arm. "You're doing a great job," he said softly. "Just hang in there and see it through."

She nodded and put the car back in gear, and they drove the rest of the way to the parking lot in silence.

Few lights glowed through the building's darkened windows, and the grounds were silent and deserted. Tucked away as it was, behind massive stone walls and a legion of greenery, Beacons of Hope seemed an oasis of serenity. But the night air was muggy, with an underlying tension that heralded an approaching storm. The weather was both a boon and a curse, since it would both disguise Francine's movements on the grounds and highlight Lee and Amanda's flashlight beams as they moved through the empty offices.

Before getting out of the car, Lee pulled out his gun one more time and checked the clip and safety. Sensing Amanda's eyes on him, he looked up.

"Better to be safe than sorry," he said.

"Surely you don't really expect . . . "

"I hope not." He tucked the gun into his shoulder holster and tugged his windbreaker into place over it. "Let's get this over with."

The night watchmen nodded at them when they came in the front door. He was an elderly man, probably picking up a few extra dollars at night to supplement his social security checks. After a cursory glance at Amanda's ID he waved them through.

"All the girls are asleep at this hour," he said. "But you're welcome to have a look."

Amanda gave him a bright smile. "I certainly hope Shannon's asleep, after everything she's been through," she said. "but I promised her parents I'd look in on her, so here I am." She tucked her arm through Lee's and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I even cut my date short so I wouldn't break a promise."

"That's real nice of you, ma'am." Charmed, the guard smiled back at her. "Mr. Benakov really respects that kind of work ethic."

Once past the entryway, the hallways branched off left and right, one leading to the girls' rooms, and the other to the general living areas. Luckily, the stairwells were at opposite ends of the corridors, so they should be able slip up to the second and third floors without attracting the guard's notice. Lee followed Amanda to the left, toward the girls' rooms.

Halfway down the hall Amanda opened a door and slipped inside to check on Shannon.

"Asleep," she whispered when she returned a moment later. She laced her fingers with his, and they continued down the hall. Thick carpeting, installed for comfort and warmth, silenced their footsteps as they moved about the building.

The second floor was dark and deserted. Lee followed Amanda past the nursing station to the doctor's office, then stood watch while she picked the lock. They stepped inside, closing the door silently behind them and keeping their flashlight beams pointed at the floor.

"Dr. Kolar did the surgery on Shannon," Amanda whispered. "He should have a patient record in here somewhere."

Lee nodded, already moving toward the desk. The top was clear of paperwork, the drawers locked. A nearby filing cabinet was also locked. It wouldn't stop him, but it would slow things down a bit. He reached into his pocket for his lock pick and was startled by Amanda's voice at his elbow.

"I'm going to go up to Benakov's office," she said, still keeping her voice low. "See what I can find."

He straightened, an objection already forming on his lips, but she shook her head before he could say anything.

"Lee, it's my case," she reminded him quietly.

He didn't want to let her do it. As long as she was with him, he could protect her. Upstairs, she'd be on her own, and vulnerable.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, her eyes on his. "I'm just going to have a quick look around. I'll be right back."

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Keep your gun handy," he said. "And for God's sake, take the safety off."

"It's already off." She stepped in close. Brushed her lips across his. Stepped back. "Be careful."

"I will."

He watched her slip silently out the door, then turned his attention back to his work.

Amanda didn't see anybody on her way up to Benakov's office, and it only took her a few seconds to bypass the lock on his door. Inside, she left the lights off and kept her flashlight beam pointed at the carpet. There were heavy drapes at the windows, but she didn't want to risk closing them for fear of arousing suspicion. She moved quickly to the desk, set aside the cellular phone she'd been carrying, and sat down in the chair. Lightning flashed outside the window, making the smiling faces in the portraits leap out at her in macabre relief.

She pulled open the top drawer of the desk. Odds and ends. Pens, pencils, a few paper clips, a handful of spare change. And tucked into the very back corner, a single key that she drew out to study in the glow from the flashlight. It was small, brass, and free of any identifying marks. Curious, she tried it in the other desk drawers, to no avail. They all remained securely closed. All right, then. Lock pick it was.

She didn't realize she'd drawn her lower lip between her teeth until she felt the slight sting when the large bottom drawer finally slid open. Pocketing the pick, she checked her watch. Ten minutes to go until check-in time with Francine. Hopefully Lee would make it up here by then. If not, she'd go down and check on him before she called in.

It didn't matter how many times Lee reminded her that this was all just "part of the job," she still hated going through other people's things, and it was with some reluctance that she returned to the task at hand. Neatly arranged hanging files filled the front of the drawer. But in the back, behind the folders, she found a small metal lockbox. Bingo. A locked box in a locked drawer in a locked office could only mean one thing. Somebody didn't want her to see what was inside.

She eased it out and set it on the desktop, then picked up the small key. She didn't really expect it to fit. After all, if the contents of the box were that important, wouldn't Benakov have kept the key with him, or even used a safe? But whether because he'd grown complacent over the years or for some other reason, the key did fit. She turned it, felt the tumblers slide into place, and lifted the lid.

Computer disks. Dozens of them. All identical except for the alphanumeric codes on their adhesive labels. Lifting her head, she stared toward the closed office door, weighing her options. The disks were write protected and almost certainly encrypted, which meant she probably wouldn't be able to access the data on them herself. But she'd give it a try anyway, just to be sure.

The computer on Benakov's desk was turned off. She hit the switch and listened to it whir to life while she thumbed through the disks. Fifty-one. There were fifty-one of them. Close to three disks for each year the home had been in operation. Which . . . didn't really tell her anything much, but it was interesting.

When the computer was ready, she slid in the first disk. As she'd expected, the files were encrypted. Half a dozen of them on this disk. She popped it out. Put in another. Eight on this one. Also encrypted. The third disk had ten files. The next, six again. But the one after that only had five. So, at a rough average of seven files per disk, with fifty-one disks . . . about three hundred and fifty files.

She needed to take them back to IFF, let the tech people have a look at them. She doubted there was an encryption code they couldn't break. With that thought in mind, she bundled the disks back into the lockbox and reached over to turn off the computer. But when she flipped the switch on the CPU the overhead lights turned on, temporarily blinding her and making her blink in confusion.

When her eyes adjusted to the sudden glare she discovered she was no longer alone, and her heart sank even as a surge of adrenalin made her fingers close tight around the tiny brass key she still held in her hand.

Alex Benakov stood in the open doorway. His piercing green eyes were narrowed, the thick brows drawn down by a frown. He gestured, waving his companion forward into the room. Short and squarely built, the man had a face that made Amanda think of the neighbor's bulldog. Both men were armed. Benakov's gun was in his right hand, the muzzle pointed squarely at Amanda. The other man held his weapon in his left hand while he used the other to shove Lee through the door ahead of him.

Amanda took it all in at a glance, started to reach for her revolver, and then changed her mind. There was no way she'd be able to take out both men before one of them got her or Lee. No, she'd have to think of something else. She looked at Lee, saw the warning in his eyes, and knew he'd seen her aborted move toward her weapon. Careful to keep her hands in view, she straightened from the desk and waited to see what Benakov would do.

"Mrs. King." Benakov shook his head sadly. "I am . . . somewhat distressed to find you here this evening."

"You mean Mrs. Stetson," the other man said, watching Lee. "Isn't that right, Mr. Peterson? Or should I say"--his lips curled up in a sneer--"Mr. Stetson."

That voice. Amanda had heard it before, when she'd hit redial from the phone in that hidden nursery. So. Another piece of the puzzle sliding into place. But who was he and how had they learned Lee's real identity?

"Vanek," Benakov said mildly. "There's no need to be rude." He nodded at Amanda. "Mrs. King, I would like to introduce you to my associate, Gregory Vanek. Gregory, say hello to Mrs. Stetson." His gaze shifted to Lee. "This has been a most interesting evening," he said conversationally. "First I find out we've got a pair of spies in our midst, and then, when I stopped by Dr. Kolar's office to pick up a patient file, I discovered"--he flicked a glance at Vanek, then back to Amanda--"your husband rifling through his desk."

"What I would like to know," Vanek said, and his gruff voice made chills shiver up Amanda's spine. "Is where the mysterious Mrs. Peterson is." He kept his gun trained on Lee, but his eyes were on Amanda. "And who she is."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Amanda said, stalling for time. _Come on, Francine. Call._

Vanek reached into his pocket. Crossing to the desk, he dropped a handful of photographs onto its gleaming surface.

"Recognize those?"

Their picnic in the park. Damn it. Why hadn't it occurred to her that she might be watched?

"You know," she said haughtily, "it's very rude to take pictures of people without asking permission." From the corner of her eye, Amanda thought she saw Lee's lips twitch, but she kept her attention on Vanek. "You had no right to take these, no right at all. There's probably even a law against it. In fact, I'm sure there is. I should report you to the police."

So saying, she reached for the phone, then froze when Vanek jammed his gun under her chin.

"I don't think," he said, using the muzzle to push her back and down into the chair, "that would be such a good idea."

"Get your hands off her!" Lee's voice, sharp with anger, drew her attention away from the feel of cold steel against her jaw. She saw him start to move toward her, then stop again with a curse when Benakov swung his weapon around. Vanek never twitched.

"The photos made me curious," Vanek said, without taking his eyes off hers, "so I showed them to some friends of mine. Apparently . . . " The glance he flicked over his shoulder was derisive. "Your husband has quite a reputation."

Desperate now, but still playing for time, Amanda swallowed hard. "Reputation?"

"Tsk Tsk, Mrs. Stetson. I find it difficult to believe that your husband hasn't shared a few war stories with you. In fact--" he scooped up the pictures and tucked them back into his pocket one handed -- "my comrades in the StB are looking forward to meeting the great Scarecrow in person."

"You'll never be able to get him out of the country," Amanda said, fighting to stay calm. Anger churned in her stomach, but her hands were clammy with fear. She risked a glance at Lee and found him watching her with a kind of quiet pride. It steadied her, gave her the courage to go on. "And even if you did, he'd never talk."

"Ah yes. He does have that reputation." Vanek studied Lee with a regretful sigh. "Well then, I suppose the only solution is to kill him." He sighted on Lee's chest, the gun rock steady in his hand. "My countrymen will be disappointed to lose so grand a prize, but a man who will not talk is of no use, even to us."

Before Amanda could react, several things happened at once.

The cellular phone, previously unnoticed by Vanek and Benakov, gave a loud ring. Vanek jumped, started to turn, and Lee lunged forward. Benakov shouted. Vanek twisted back around, there was a single gunshot, and Amanda watched in horror as Lee went down, his body hitting the carpet with a muffled thud.

Vanek spun back to Amanda, his eyes fierce. The phone rang again.

"Answer it," Vanek growled. "Tell whoever it is that you're fine."

Nodding, fighting a sob, Amanda picked up the phone.

"Mockingbird." Francine's voice. Low and urgent. "What's going on up there? I heard gunfire."

"Hello, Mother." Amanda struggled to keep her voice even. "No, I'm still at work. It looks like I'll be at least another two hours." Her mind raced, composing a message that would bring help without making Vanek or Benakov suspicious. "Listen, could you do me a favor? Could you help Jamie finish up that First Aid Badge? I told him I'd do that tonight, but it doesn't look like I'll make it home on time."

"Two shooters. Got it," Francine said, and Amanda could almost hear her concentrating, parsing the message. "I'll call for backup and an ambulance. Hang in there, and don't do anything stupid."

"Oh, no. I won't." Amanda bit her lip as her glance fell on Lee's prone form. "Give the boys a hug for me," she said. "Tell them I'll see them in the morning." She ended the call, satisfied that she'd done the best she could, and set the phone down. When she looked up again, Vanek was watching her speculatively.

"First Aid, huh?"

She nodded. "My little boy's in scouts."

"Or," Vanek said, "that could've been a coded message." He shook his head. "That other woman, the one who was pretending to be his wife." A flick of the gun toward Lee's inert body made Amanda cringe. "Who is she?"

When Amanda didn't answer, Vanek turned to Benakov. "Watch her," he said. "I'm going to check the grounds."

Benakov nodded, his gaze sliding over Lee's body and coming to rest on Amanda. "I'll take care of it."

"You'd better," Vanek said, "because if this thing comes crashing down, it's going to land on your head."

Vanek left, and Benakov gestured with his free hand. "Sit."

She did, reluctantly. But every muscle in her body fought against it. Lee was down. Hurt. Possibly worse. She bit her lip. No. She had to ignore the spreading stain of blood in the creamy carpet and concentrate on Benakov.

"You should have just asked," he was saying. "I would have told you. Some of it, anyway. Enough to make you understand." With his free hand, he picked up the small, silver-framed portrait from the corner of his desk. "She was so beautiful," he said. "So full of life." Shaking his head, he returned the picture to his desk, his touch almost reverent. "I would tell you about her," he said. "Will you listen?"

She didn't want to. She wanted to scream at him to get the hell out of her way so she could go to Lee. Instead she nodded and tried to look interested. "Of course I'll listen."

He sat down across from her, crossed his legs, and straightened the lapels of his jacket. She half expected him to offer her tea.

"Katerina was my sister." His gaze fell on the portrait again, and despite his relaxed attitude there was a kind of maniacal sadness in his eyes that made the back of Amanda's neck tingle. "She was six years older than me." He sighed, flicked a disinterested glance at Lee, then looked back at Amanda. "When our parents died in an automobile accident, she looked after me. And when she married, she brought me with her to her new home."

Lightning flashed outside, and Benakov paused, his head tilted to one side. When thunder rumbled a few seconds later, he smiled at Amanda. "Did you know you could count the seconds between lightning and thunder to judge how far away a storm is?" he asked. "Katerina taught me that."

"Yes," Amanda answered, not quite able to believe that while her husband lay bleeding a few feet away she was calmly discussing the weather with a madman. "I did know that."

"I used to help Katerina do the marketing," Alex said, returning to his story. "She'd say she needed a strong man to carry her packages, but I knew she was teasing me." A fond smile curved his lips. "She used to do that a lot." Then his expression hardened, and when he looked at her, Benakov's gaze was flinty. "Until they took her away."

In an instant, he was on his feet and prowling the room with long, angry strides. "Crimes against the people, they called it."

Amanda started to ease out of the chair, hoping he'd let her go to Lee, but Benakov saw her and shook his head, waving her back down.

"My sister," he said fiercely, "never committed a crime in her life."

His footsteps took him to the windows, then to the opposite wall, and then back to the windows again. And each time he passed Lee's body, he stepped around it with the kind of fastidious disdain most people reserved for dog droppings and moldy banana peels.

"She was with child when they took her." He stopped beside the desk, picked up the picture again and laid it, face up, in front of Amanda. "She gave birth in that hellhole of a prison." His eyes came up, and there were tears in them. "They took her baby away. Said she couldn't be trusted to raise her child to be a good Czech citizen." Returning to his chair, he sank into it, his anger draining away as quickly as it had come. "Two weeks later, we were sent a bill for Katerina's burial." He shook his head. "They didn't even have the decency to tell us how she died."

"I don't understand," Amanda said. "If you know what that feels like, how could you let this happen to Shannon's baby, and to all those others?"

Benakov's gaze hardened. "Because," he said, "the StB wants babies. And it amuses them to steal them from under American noses." Thunder rumbled again, drawing his attention to the window. "And every American baby I supply allows one wrongly imprisoned Czechoslovakian mother to keep her child."

"Is that what your sister would have wanted? To keep her child at the expense of someone else's?"

His eyes shot to hers. "The babies I take . . . their mothers do not want them. I see that they get good homes with loving families. And I use the money I get to make the girls who come here comfortable. It is exactly what Katerina would have me do."

"Shannon wanted her little girl."

"It was necessary." He blew out a breath, lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "They doubled their order."

The way he said it, as if it didn't matter any more than the piece of lint he flicked off his suit, infuriated Amanda. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the weapon in his hand.

"You had no right!"

In an instant he was facing her across the desk with fury in his eyes and the gun shoved hard against her chest. "Do not judge me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You, who hide your marriage from the world. You, who let your man pretend marriage to another woman." He jerked his head toward Lee. "The girls who come here," he said, "come here to hide their shame. Will you do that, too? If you get pregnant, will you hide your child the way you hide your marriage?"

Shocked, Amanda took a step back, and they stared at each other, breathing heavily, the breadth of the desk and the weight of their cultures looming between them.

In the silence, Amanda heard the wail of sirens and then the pounding of footsteps in the hallway. Benakov turned, threw a desperate glance at the closed door, and before Amanda could stop him sprang toward the window.

There was a crash as glass shattered, and then he was gone. A cold, rain-filled breeze rushed in to take his place.

"Oh, God."

Ignoring the pounding on the door, Amanda rushed to Lee's side and reached for his pulse. When she felt the strong, steady beat of it beneath her fingertips, she allowed herself a short sigh of relief.

"Lee?" she said urgently. "Lee, can you hear me?"

He groaned, and his eyes opened, but she could see the pain in them. When he lifted his hand she caught it in hers and pressed a quick kiss against his curled fingers.

"Don't try to move," she said. "I'm going to get help."

As much as she wanted to stay with him, she knew she couldn't. She had a job to finish. On her feet again, she reached the door in two strides and flung it open to reveal a pair of uniformed police officers.

"My partner's hurt," she said, already moving past them. "Take care of him."

And then she was out and gone, headed for the stairs with her gun in her hand. Where was Francine? And Vanek? Had Benakov survived his three story fall? And if so, where was he?

Amanda pushed through the milling crowd in the front hall and on out the door--into the darkness, and the rain, and the watery, multicolored glare of emergency lights.


	9. Chapter 9

"Amanda!"

But she was already gone. He knew that, even as a uniformed police officer dropped to his knees beside him. Practiced hands caught his wrist, held it. They were just checking his pulse, but Lee's awareness didn't extend to reason, only to restraint. He fought against the hold, struggling to his knees and then to his feet, slapping at the hands that sought to hold him back.

"Let me go," he said. "I'm all right."

"Sir, you've got a head wound." One of the officers, almost as tall as Lee and built like a linebacker, took a firm hold on his arm. "You need to stay down until the paramedics get here."

"No." Lee yanked his arm away, stronger in his desperation than even that muscular grip. "No, I don't. I need to find my wife."

"The woman who just ran out of here?"

Not just a woman. His life. "Yes," he snapped. "Which way did she go?"

The other officer, this one younger and with a look of understanding in his eyes, jerked his head toward the door. "Downstairs, I assume. She said to take care of you and then she ran."

She was going after Vanek and Benakov. On her own. Damn it.

Lee swiped the moisture out of his eyes, recognized the warm, sticky texture of his own blood, and cursed.

"Either one of you have a handkerchief?"

"I do." The younger cop again. Pulling it out of his pocket, he handed it over.

"Thanks." Lee reached up blindly, trying to find the wound on his scalp, then murmured another distracted thanks when the first cop took the cloth away, refolded it, and pressed it against Lee's head.

"There. Keep the pressure on it." Apparently he'd realized there was no way he was going to convince Lee to stay put and wait for the medics. "After you find your wife," he said, "make sure you get somebody to take a look at that. It's a bloody mess."

"Yeah, I will." At the door, Lee turned. "Secure this room. It's a crime scene."

Without waiting for their answer, he walked out.

Downstairs, chaos reigned as residents and employees clamored for information from the handful of cops who struggled to hold them back. Silence fell when they saw Lee, and it followed him down the hall, through the entryway, and into the rain.

But once outside the door he stopped, unsure which way to turn. The long drive was full of emergency vehicles. He counted half a dozen police cars and three ambulances before he turned away. Amanda wouldn't be there. She'd be in the middle of things, helping with the search. He looked around, struggling to make out details through the darkness and pouring rain. The people moving about the grounds were visible only by the beams of their flashlights. He watched them for a moment. Was she out there alone, preparing to face down Benakov and Vanek single-handed? Or was she down by the gate, where a cluster of lights bobbed and wove like psychotic fireflies?

A tap at his shoulder snapped his head around. The cop from upstairs had followed him. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Lee gestured at the radio clipped to the officer's shoulder harness. "Can you find out what's going on down there?" He waved toward the gate, certain somehow that Amanda wasn't there.

"Sure, I can."

"Do it."

He waited impatiently while the officer checked in with his superiors, his eyes scanning the grounds again. _Where are you, Amanda?_

"They got a runner. Guy named Vanek."

With a sharp nod, Lee turned away, his footsteps taking him around the side of the house. He'd seen the broken window in Benakov's office, and though nobody had told him as much, he assumed somebody had gone through it. It would explain Amanda's rush from the room when the police got there. She would've weighed his safety against the chance her quarry might escape and known she had to put the job first. But a man could survive a three story fall. He might even manage to hold onto his weapon. And if Amanda wasn't expecting that, if she'd assumed he'd be hurt, she could've been taken unaware.

The rain was coming down harder now, washing the blood off his face and sliding icy fingers down his collar. He tossed the soggy handkerchief aside. It was only slowing him down.

"Amanda!" Damn it. Where was she? "Amanda!"

And then he saw her. She was standing several yards away, watching a pair of paramedics load a gurney into an ambulance. Lee strode toward her.

"Amanda . . . "

She turned. For an instant she just stared at him while the rain poured down and lightning flashed and sirens sounded in the distance. And then she was in his arms, and nothing could've prepared him for the wall of emotion that slammed into him. Relief that she was okay, pride in the way she'd handled Benakov and Vanek, and love, such an overwhelming surge of it that he sank to his knees, bringing her with him, oblivious to everything else except that he held her, safe and sound, in his arms.

Lifting his hands to her face, he brushed the streaming strands of hair away from her eyes and realized for the first time that she was crying.

"Shh," he said, pulling her in, tucking her close. "It's over." He rocked her gently, letting the wind push against them while the rain washed away tears and blood alike. "It's all over."

"I'm okay," she said, her words muffled by a clap of thunder. "I'm okay. I just . . . " Her arms tightened around him with surprising strength. "God, I was so scared."

She hugged him again, then eased back. "Oh my gosh." She got to her feet, pulled him up with her. "You're still bleeding. We need to get you to a doctor."

He swallowed his distaste for doctors and let her lead him over to the paramedics. She'd be riding on Adrenalin now, using its influence to do what needed to be done out here, where the world was watching. But when it was over, and reaction rolled through her like an earthquake rolling through stone, he'd be there to make sure she didn't shatter.

********************

********************

It felt like a lifetime later when Lee unlocked the door and waved her inside ahead of him. They'd been quiet on the way home, worn out by the night's events and the briefing that followed. Despite her concentration on the rain-slicked streets, Amanda had felt Lee's eyes on her during the trip back to his apartment. He was worried about her. She didn't have to see the expression on his face to know that. But she wasn't ready to talk.

She left him to lock up, moving through the darkened apartment to the bedroom and from there to the bathroom. Her fingers hovered over the light switch as the memories flickered through her mind like frames from an old-time newsreel. She'd been putting the disks back in Benakov's lock box when the lights had flashed on and she'd found herself face to face with a pair of 45's and their cold-eyed handlers. She closed her own eyes against the memory, flicked the switch, and when the bright glow hit her eyelids, half expected to find herself back there again.

Luckily, the cold, hard surface of the vanity grounded her, keeping her in the present. She gripped it hard, opened her eyes, and stared at the image reflected in the mirror. Pale skin, washed free of makeup and bleached by exhaustion. Eyes like muddy pools on a cloudy day. And hair . . . She reached up to run her fingers through the tangled mess. It would probably be easier to tame a thicket of wild blackberries.

Lee stepped into the bathroom. His gaze met hers in the mirror, and he rested his hands on her shoulders, giving a light squeeze. The familiar touch soothed her frayed nerves.

"You okay?" he asked.

He looked tired. And there was a tightness at the corners of his eyes. Headache. The Tylenol he'd taken at the hospital wasn't quite doing the job. She wished he hadn't been so stubborn about taking something stronger.

She stared at the bandage on his temple and flashed back to Benakov calmly discussing the weather while Lee lay bleeding on the floor. Would she ever again hear the crash of thunder without remembering? Her throat ached with tears she wouldn't let fall. She took a deep breath, forced back the nightmare, and summoned a smile.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just a little tired." It wasn't the first time they'd run into trouble on an assignment, nor the first time one of them had been hurt. But it still hit her hard afterward, when she couldn't let it go as quickly as Lee seemed to.

"Just a little?" he shook his head and slid his hands down her arms and away, leaving her feeling cold and alone once more. "Honestly, Amanda, I don't know how you do it. I think I could sleep for a week." He'd traded his bloody clothes for a borrowed set of scrubs at the hospital, and now he tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it into the hamper like a ball player sinking a slam dunk. "I don't know about you, but I want a hot shower and a good night's sleep."

"Sounds good."

He turned her around and linked his hands at the small of her back. "It's a good thing you told your mother and the boys you'd be out all night, huh?"

"Yeah." Her voice felt rusty. "It's a good thing."

He studied her for long moment, then reached for the hem of her top. "Come on," he said. The concern was back in his eyes. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes and into some hot water."

She lifted her arms so he could pull the shirt over her head. Still mired in her own thoughts, it took her a moment to realize that he'd grown oddly still. "Lee?"

His only response was in the tightening of his jaw and the flex of his hands against her shoulders. His eyes had gone hot and fierce.

"Lee, what is it?" The muscles in his arms were tight when she touched him. Battle ready.

"Did he do that?"

"He, who?"

He turned her to face the mirror, and for the first time she saw the deepening bruise in the center of her chest. She touched her fingertips to the spot, thankful she was alive to feel the slight ache.

Lee caught her hand, pulled it away. "Benakov."

There was something in his voice she hadn't heard before, a kind of deadly intensity that frightened her. Instinctively, she ducked her head, hoping there wasn't a matching bruise under her chin courtesy of Vanek.

"Lee, it's okay. It doesn't even hurt very much." It was the words that had hurt, not his gun.

"No, it's not okay." Lee's eyes flashed to hers in the mirror. "It's never okay for somebody to hurt you."

His protectiveness made her smile a little as she turned back around and reached up to run her fingers over the stark white gauze at his temple. "You're in worse shape than I am."

She watched him struggle with it. As hard as it was for her when he got hurt in the line of duty, she knew that it was harder for him. A lifetime of conditioning coupled with the colonel's strict military values meant that he inevitably blamed himself for failing to protect her, and she wasn't surprised when several seconds passed before the tension in his body started to ease.

"It all went to hell pretty fast, didn't it," he said.

"We came through it, though."

"Again." His faint smile was rueful. "One of these days we might not be so lucky."

The thought turned her blood to ice. She shivered. "Don't even think it."

With a shake of his head, he let her go to turn on the water. "Come on," he said. "We'll take a quick shower and get some sleep."

They finished undressing in silence, and Lee got into the tub first, taking Amanda's hand as she climbed in after him. Steam billowed up around them, enclosing them in a tropical cocoon. She stood under the warm spray while Lee combed his fingers through her hair, lifting and separating the strands to let the water run through. It felt good, hypnotic almost, and she let the weight of her wet hair pull her head back so that her body arched into his. His arm came around her waist, supporting her, and she felt him press his lips to her bruised chest in a move so tender it made her throat ache. She curled her fingers into his shoulders, anchoring herself against the groundswell of emotion that threatened to wash her away with the draining bath water.

When he reached for the soap she stepped out of the spray, letting her eyes close as his hands moved over her. The familiar warm strength of his fingers and the gentleness of his touch drew out the worst of her tension, leaving a rich lather of soap bubbles in their wake.

"You know--" His thumb brushed over the ridge of scar tissue on her chest, his expression thoughtful. "Another wedding means another honeymoon."

She laid her hand over his, pressing his palm into the curve of her breast. "I'd like that."

"Maybe not California this time, though."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "No. Not California."

He bent his head, his mouth brushing over hers once, twice, and then a third time before he drew back to look into her eyes. "Someplace warm."

"I could live with warm." Tropical, even. Tropical would be good.

"After that storm, so could I."

He'd finished with the soap, and Amanda rinsed off, then traded places with him.

"You can't get that bandage wet," she said, "but we'll do the best we can."

Arms lowered, fingers splayed wide, Lee gave her a smile that was probably meant to be sexy, but the humor in his eyes spoiled the effect. "I'm all yours."

Laughter bubbled up in her chest, then faded as her hands slid over his skin. She never tired of touching him, of the muscles that shifted beneath her fingertips and the bone that didn't, of the lines and angles and textures that she loved as much as she loved his mind and heart. She stepped close, letting her body rest against his, and pressed her ear to his chest. Here was life, she thought, listening to the steady beat. His. Hers. Theirs. They had a past together now, a short one, but a past nonetheless. And they had this moment, their present, with nothing between them but soap bubbles and steam. And they would have a future. She'd give her last breath to make sure of that, to protect it, and nurture it, and help it grow.

She felt his arms come around her and the press of his lips against her temple, and when she looked up he smiled a little and stepped back so that water sluiced over them both, rinsing away the last vestiges of their nightmarish adventure. Once again they'd managed to beat the odds, and she was smart enough not to question their luck even as she prayed that it would continue to hold.

With the water turned off, Lee handed her a towel and took another for himself. They dried off, brushed their teeth, and then Lee went to turn down the bed while Amanda combed the tangles out of her hair and slipped on a short cotton nightgown.

Lee held the covers out of the way while she climbed in beside him, then smiled her thanks when he tucked the blankets in around her shoulders.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes." She moved in close and tucked her leg between his. "How's your head?"

"Hurts," he said lightly, "but I'll live."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"So am I, believe me." The small night light in the corner cast just enough light for her to see that he was studying her. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. "Are you ever going to tell me about it?"

"About what?" she asked, but her heart thudded hard against her ribs. Before they were married, she'd always dealt with the fallout from difficult missions in her own way, without letting him see how hard it was to lock it all up and put it aside. Now . . .

"About what happened tonight." His eyes didn't leave her face, and his expression was somber.

"I already did," she said, hoping to satisfy him with a restatement of the facts. "I told you that Vanek went after Francine, and that when Benakov heard the sirens he broke the window and jumped. Only Francine caught Vanek instead of him catching her--I'll bet he hated that--and Benakov broke his leg when he fell so he couldn't get away."

His eyes steady on hers, Lee shook his head. "I want to know the parts you _didn't_ tell Billy."

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "It's not important."

He didn't say anything, but she felt him waiting, and she knew he wouldn't let it go until she told him all of it.

"He asked me if I was ashamed," she finally said, eyes still on the ceiling. It seemed a little silly to be upset over it now, but for some reason she couldn't let it go. "He wanted to know if that was why I let you pretend to be married to Francine, and if I would hide our baby the same way I hid our marriage."

There was a long silence, and then she felt him hook his finger under her chin so that she had to look at him. "It wasn't the part about Francine that bothered you, was it."

She shook her head, feeling a little silly for being bothered about it at all. "Not really."

"Amanda . . . " He moved his hand down to her stomach, his fingers radiating warmth through the thin cotton. What would it be like if she did get pregnant? What expression would he have on his face the first time he felt their baby move? Love? Awe? Terror? She wanted to see that look, wanted to trap it in her heart and keep it there forever.

"We've been taking precautions," he said, drawing her attention back to the present. "And we'll be going public soon anyway, but--" he kissed her, his lips feathering over hers. "If you had gotten pregnant, even if it had happened the first time we made love, I never would've asked you to hide it."

The mere thought of how it might have been made her heart clench in her chest. The initial realization, telling Mother and the boys . . . Telling Lee. All of it flashed through her mind in an instant. How would they have gotten through it? What would it have done to her family, to the boys?

"In fact--" His gaze softened, grew distant. "I think I would've been thrilled."

Remembering Lee's early interactions with Dotty and the boys, Amanda raised her eyebrows. In some ways, family life was still as alien to him as the spy business had once been to her.

"Okay, so I would've been stunned at first," he admitted with a rueful grin. "And more than a little terrified." His hand moved to her hip. Settled possessively. "But at that point, we already knew we loved each other. If you'd gotten pregnant it might've changed our plans a little, but it wouldn't have been catastrophic."

She bit her lip and nodded, knowing it was true. And knowing also that if he _had_ asked her not to tell anybody for a while, she would have done it without question--not for her sake, but for his--just as she had agreed to hide their marriage. Because she loved him, she would protect him. And yet in his own twisted way wasn't that what Benakov had been doing? Protecting all those nameless and faceless women who were locked up, helpless and alone, in Czechoslovakian prisons?

"Hey," Lee's quiet voice brought her eyes back to his. "Benakov broke the law. He stole American babies and sold them overseas. For profit. That's ethically and legally wrong, no matter how you slice it. And as long as we're on the subject--" He cupped her chin in his hand, his eyes intent on hers. "He doesn't know you, and he doesn't know me, and nothing he said or did in that room has any bearing on us." His grip on her chin turned into a caress. "Don't let him mess with your head, Amanda. Don't let him make you doubt yourself."

"You're right," she said. "I know you're right. It just made me think, you know? About the mess we've made and how it could've been so much worse." She pressed her hand into the solid wall of his chest, then slid it up to rest against the side of his neck, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath her palm. "Back when I first started working at Beacons I had a chat with Mother about this girl I knew in high school. She was a friend of mine until she got pregnant, and then she just sort of disappeared. Do you know what Mother said?"

He shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"She wanted to know if I was pregnant."

Amusement sparked in his eyes. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

"Because it's Mother." With rueful humor in her voice, Amanda shook her head.

"Well you aren't." He tapped her on the nose, still smiling. "And we're going to talk to Dotty and the boys this weekend, so--" his lips replaced his finger as he kissed her, soft and sweet, before nudging her to her side and spooning in behind her. "--you can put it out of your mind for a while and get some sleep."

Leave it to Lee to distill a complicated situation into a few words and a plan of action. With a faint smile, she laced her fingers through his. "Sounds like a good idea."

"Mmm" The low rumble was already heavy with sleep. "I thought so."


	10. Chapter 10

"Three hundred and forty-seven kids over a period of twenty-one years," Billy said. "At least, that's the latest tally." He shook his head. "It's a hell of a mess."

"That's way beyond the mortality rate that made Amanda suspicious in the first place," Lee said. He leaned against the closed door, arms folded. "How'd they get the rest?"

"Blind adoptions. The girls signed over their babies, Vanek forged the necessary documents, and that was that. The mothers never expected to hear from those kids again, so it was easy."

There was silence as the reality of it all sank in. More than three hundred people who would never know their true history, never meet their extended families, never be able to answer the questions their doctors would ask. Three hundred people who would never be able to say they had their father's nose or their mother's eyes or their Aunt Martha's sense of humor.

"What's going to happen to them?" Amanda asked. "The kids, I mean. They'll have families and friends, people who love them. Some of them probably don't even know they were adopted."

"I honestly don't know." Billy glanced through the window to the busy bullpen beyond. "We're turning the case over to State. Let them sort it out." He looked back at Amanda. "Best guess says they'll offer dual citizenship to all of them, and a plane ticket home for the ones who want it."

Francine spoke up from the chair beside Amanda's. She wore dark blue today, with chunky gold jewelry and heels that made Amanda's back ache just to look at them. "That's all very interesting," she said, "but did they get Dr. Kolar?"

Pragmatic as ever, Amanda thought. Francine never had been the warm and fuzzy type.

Billy nodded. "Missed Procházka, though. Somebody must've tipped her off. She's safely tucked away behind the iron curtain."

"At least we have Vanek and Benakov." Francine rubbed at her arm. "Vanek's quite the brute."

The grin Billy gave her had a hint of paternal pride to it. "From what I hear, you gave better than you got."

"You'd better believe it. Nobody hits Francine Desmond and gets away with it."

"What about the money?" Lee asked, shifting his weight and tucking his hands into his pockets. "Any word on what's going on there?"

"Not yet. We've got a team of forensic accountants going over everything, but it's going to take some time."

"He put it all back into the home." Amanda still didn't like thinking about that last conversation. "At least, he said he did."

"It would make sense," Lee said. "The nicer the home, the more choosy he could be about which girls he accepted into the program."

"Exactly." Billy shook his head. "He really is a piece of work."

"I think it's kind of sad," Amanda said.

Head tilted to one side, Billy studied her. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, I assume those babies went to loving homes." It had been preying on her mind all night, though she'd said nothing to Lee.

"So?"

"So the girls he took them from, most of them anyway, gave up their babies willingly. Sure he sold them, but he placed them with good families and used the money to help others."

"So he could steal their babies, too," Lee said sardonically.

"You make it sound like he sold every baby that came through the home. He didn't. Plenty of those kids were adopted into stable, loving, American families."

"Right." Sarcasm heavy in his voice, Lee shook his head. "So we might as well open up the adoption process. Let mothers sell their babies to the highest bidder as long as they donate the proceeds to maternity homes."

Amanda rounded on him, anger stiffening her shoulders and tightening the edges of her voice. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. And what about what happened to Alex Benakov's sister? Is that any less wrong?"

"What happens in Czechoslovakia is their problem to deal with," Lee said, eyes hard. "Not ours."

"So I'm just supposed to forget about it?"

"All right, people." Voice raised, Billy waved them to silence. "You can duke this out on your own time."

Amanda swiveled back around and folded her arms across her chest. There wasn't really any point in discussing it, anyway. Lee saw it all in black and white, while she was all tangled up in the grays.

"What happens to Vanek and Benakov?" Francine asked, easing the tension with the change of topic.

"State will probably deport them. Politically, it's a powder keg. Vanek's a thug, but he hasn't actually killed anybody, and Benakov's telling our people everything they want to know. They'll have to tread pretty lightly if they ever want to get the whole thing untangled."

"It isn't enough." Amanda shook her head. "Those men played God with hundreds of lives, and all we're going to do is send them home?"

"Wait a minute," Lee said. "A minute ago you were defending them."

"No I wasn't!" She loved him, but sometimes he made her so angry. "I was just pointing out that there wasn't an easy answer!"

"You're right, it isn't enough." Billy again, breaking up the argument before it could get started. He lifted his hands, dropped them again with a shake of his head. "Not much we can do about it, though. If we push too hard, Benakov's liable to clam up completely, and then we'll never get it all sorted out."

"What about Shannon Kelly?" Amanda asked, remembering the teenager's heartbreak. "Does she know her baby's alive?"

"I don't know what she's been told, but I do have some good news on that score." Billy shuffled through the papers on his desk, handed one to Amanda. "You were right about it being Shannon's baby that Procházka took with her that night. It doesn't look like she's been placed yet, but it's going to take some time to sort out the red tape. Good news is, the Czech government has agreed to send her home."

Amanda read the confirmation of his news with a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God." At least something good would come of the whole mess.

"I imagine you'll want to be there when she's returned to her mother?" It was a rhetorical question, but she answered it anyway.

"Yes, sir. I'd like that very much."

"I thought so." He leaned forward, and there was a note of finality in the way he closed the file. "Well, that about covers it. Good job, all of you. And Mockingbird--" There was a warm smile in his eyes as he looked at Amanda. "I'd say you earned your wings on this one."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She'd known it, of course, but it felt good to hear Billy acknowledge it in front of the others. "I did my best."

He nodded. "You always do." Directing his gaze at Francine, Billy gestured toward the door. "Francine, if you'll excuse us, I need to talk to Lee and Amanda alone for a minute."

"Sure thing," Francine said, getting to her feet. "I've got some paperwork to finish anyway."

She left in a swish of silk and a cloud of French perfume, the door closing quietly behind her. Amanda glanced a question at Lee, but he only shrugged and crossed to take the seat Francine had vacated.

"You screwed up," Billy said, as soon as Lee was seated. He didn't raise his voice, but it vibrated with anger. "And it almost cost you your lives and scuttled a major operation."

"Come on, Billy. Amanda all but tied this thing up with a bow," Lee said, and Amanda had to respect him for not shrinking from Billy's fury. She, on the other hand, was fighting a mortified cringe.

"Pure dumb luck." There was fire in Billy's eyes. "This whole thing could've gone down clean if I'd known about your marriage from the get go."

"You're right, sir." Amanda gave Lee a quelling look. He wasn't helping the situation by getting defensive about it. "We should've told you."

"Damn right you should have." But her agreement seemed to have taken the wind out of his sails. "I should put official reprimands in both your files."

Amanda glanced uneasily at Lee, but he was looking at Billy.

"Keeping our marriage under wraps was my idea," he said. "If there's going to be an official reprimand, it should go in my file, not hers."

She stared at him, fingers digging into the arms of her chair. No way was she going to let him take the heat for this alone. She spun back around to Billy. "I agreed to it, sir. I'm as much to blame as Lee is."

"Can it. Both of you." Billy glared from one to the other of them, drumming his fingers against the desk top.

As the silence lengthened it took on a life of its own, and Amanda began to feel like the walls were closing in on her.

Finally, Billy blew out a breath, his gaze zeroing in on Lee. "You've broken just about every rule in the book since you joined this agency, and I've always defended you because you're damn good at what you do." He glanced toward the busy bullpen again, shook his head, and looked back at Lee. "But this one takes the cake. Not only did you put yourself in danger, you endangered a rookie agent as well! That was damned irresponsible, even for you." Before Lee could respond, Billy rounded on Amanda. "And you! I brought you on board here to rein him in, not follow his lead!"

"Yes, sir. I know sir, but if you'll just let me explain . . . "

Billy cut her off with a sharp wave of one hand. "Don't bother. Lee already tried." Dropping his hand, he leaned back in his chair. He looked tired, as if the challenge of dealing with the two of them was wearing him out. "The question is, what are you going to do now?"

Amanda looked at Lee and found him watching her. She shrugged, turning the question over to him. There was a short, silent argument, which she brought to an end by turning away and folding her arms. She would've laughed at his quiet huff of annoyance if they hadn't been facing Billy's stony scrutiny.

"Well," Lee said, conceding defeat, "we thought we'd get married."

Billy's gaze flickered between them for a long, silent moment. Then he broke into a wide smile. "Well it's about damn time."

********************

********************

He was nervous. Honest to God nervous. Clammy hands, racing pulse, the whole nine yards. It was just lunch in the park--hot dogs, potato salad, lemonade. Hell, maybe he'd even toss a football around with the boys. No big deal, right?

He nosed the car into the curb in front of the house and turned off the ignition. Then he sat for a moment, his hand sliding into his pocket to close around her engagement ring. After today, she'd never have to take it off again. Because after today, the whole world would know how they felt about each other. It was a heady thought, but there was also a part of him that regretted the end of the secrecy. Once their engagement was out in the open, it wouldn't be just theirs anymore.

Annoyed with himself for indulging in pointless self-pity, Lee shook his head. He wanted this. He wanted to be part of a real family, with a home, and kids, and a wife who would be by his side all the time--not just when they could squeeze time from their busy schedules. He wanted to play ball with the boys, and work in the yard, and learn how to fix the plumbing when it broke. But most of all, he wanted to be a husband to Amanda. A real husband--not just a name on a piece of paper.

So he would propose to her this afternoon while Dotty and the boys looked on. And when she said yes he would slide the ring on her finger, and then he would take her in his arms and kiss her until she got that glazed look in her eyes that always made him want to kiss her some more.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he got out of the car and started up the walk. The front door opened as he reached the steps, and Amanda stepped out. Her warm smile went a long way toward helping him relax.

"I was starting to think you were going to stay out there all afternoon." She gave him a quick kiss, and it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms right then and there.

He settled for bracketing her waist with his hands and returning her smile. "I thought about it," he confessed.

"Are you ready?"

She looked relaxed and happy standing there with the sun shining in her hair and her eyes laughing up at him. It was all the confirmation he needed that they were doing the right thing.

"Yeah," he said, and he couldn't resist kissing the corner of her mouth, stealing a part of her smile for himself. "I suppose I am."

"Good." She tucked her arm through his and pushed the door open. "We're all ready to go. Just let me grab the lemonade and we'll be off."

"Your mother and the boys?"

"Already in the car." She gave him a quick, apologetic glance. "Along with the football, two frisbees, the badminton game, and a set of horseshoes."

He stopped in his tracks. "Horseshoes?"

"Mother's favorite."

"Ahh." Shaking his head, he picked up the thermos of lemonade and tried not to feel like General Patton heading out to hunt pheasants in the German countryside. The only difference was that Patton hadn't had an inkling that his day might turn disastrous.

The car hadn't been parked out front, so he started toward the back door, then turned at the touch of her hand on his arm. Her eyes were serious, and from the look she gave him he suspected she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking.

"It's going to be fine, Lee. You'll see."

Four years together, and she could read him like a book.

He was damned good at his job. And he liked to think he was learning to be a decent husband. But he was still pretty clueless about how to be a parent or a son-in-law.

"Of course it'll be fine," he said, pasting on what he hoped was a confident smile. "Why wouldn't it be?" He started forward again, only to stop when he realized she wasn't coming with him. "What?"

Stepping close, she leaned in and pressed a kiss against his jaw. "I love you," she said.

Yeah. She knew him, all right. Grinning, he shook his head. "I love you, too."

"Good." She tucked her arm in his and picked up her keys. "Then let's go on a picnic."

***************

*** **Epilogue** ***

The white clapboard farmhouse had a deep front porch and a yard dotted with elm and maple trees. Its concrete walkway was cracked but free of weeds, and the simple white curtains at the open windows waved gently in the afternoon breeze. Lee would probably call it old and run down. To Amanda, it looked warm and homey. Lived in.

A good place for Shannon's little girl to grow up.

The social worker had agreed to wait by the cars for the time being, letting Amanda handle the initial meeting. Grateful for this simple gift from a total stranger, she snuggled the baby close as she walked. Such a tiny little thing to have already had such a grand adventure. Surely it meant she was destined for greatness.

As if she'd heard Amanda's thoughts, the baby's eyes opened, and she yawned, her tiny mouth opening wide. Would those eyes stay blue? Or would they change to match her mother's green ones? The little nose didn't have the faint upturn at the end that her mother's did, so maybe she got that from her father.

Beside her, Lee's expression was unreadable, but his hand was warm at her back, and he carried the small diaper bag as easily as he wore his gun. She didn't tell him it looked good on him, though. She didn't want to scare him.

Just then the front door of the house slammed open, and a girl about Jamie's age came flying out, only to stop in awkward confusion at the top of the steps.

"They're here!" she yelled back toward the house. "Shannon! They're here!"

Before Amanda could do more than smile, a flood of people came pouring through the opened door.

And right in front, picking her way slowly down the steps with a nervous smile, was Shannon.

Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a pony tail, and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose made her look even younger than her fifteen years. She came to a stop in front of Amanda, her eyes wide as she studied her daughter's face for the first time.

"Hello, Shannon," Amanda said. "It's good to see you again."

Shannon tore her eyes away from the baby long enough to give Amanda a quick smile. "Yeah." She glanced back to where her parents stood as if only just remembering she wasn't alone, then swivelled back. "Is that . . . " She swallowed. Tried again. "Is that my baby?"

"Sure is," Amanda said. "Would you like to hold her?"

Eyes wide, Shannon nodded.

Carefully, Amanda settled the baby into Shannon's arms. "Easy now," she said. "Make sure you support her head. It'll be a while yet before she can do that on her own."

"She's so tiny," Shannon's voice was awed, and it made Amanda smile.

"She'll grow, believe me. Besides, you aren't all that big yourself."

The social worker stepped up beside Amanda. She was still young enough to be idealistic, and she smiled warmly as she touched Shannon on the shoulder.

"Miss Kelly? I'm Harriet. The social worker? We talked on the phone."

"Oh!" Shannon blushed. "Yes. Ms. Perkins. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

Harriet only smiled. "Under the circumstances, it's perfectly understandable." She gestured toward the house. "Do you mind if we step inside? There's a lot we need to talk about, and I've got some papers I need you and your parents to sign."

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Amanda stepped aside while Lee handed over the diaper bag. They watched the family move back down the walk, and Amanda was about to turn back to the car when Shannon stopped, said something to the social worker, and passed the baby to her mother.

"Mrs. King! Wait!" She came back down the walk, her pace slowed only slightly by the stomach muscles that hadn't fully recovered from surgery. "Thank you," she said, her arms coming around Amanda in a quick, tight hug. "Thank you for everything."

There were tears in Amanda's eyes as she held Shannon close for an instant, then let her go. "You're welcome."

And then she was gone, and it wasn't long before Lee and Amanda were alone in the deserted yard. He moved to her side, and she felt his touch at her elbow.

"Hey," he said softly. "You did a good thing here."

Amanda blinked. Sniffled. "Yeah." She gave him a watery smile. "I did, didn't I."

She wondered if she'd ever hear from Shannon again, then decided it would be okay if she didn't. Somehow she knew that Shannon Kelly and her tiny daughter were going to be just fine.

"Thanks," she said. At the other end of the street a group of little girls laughed over a game of hopscotch, and across the way, a boy rode past on his bicycle.

"For what?"

"For coming with me."

"Anytime." He lifted her hand, brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "After all--" With a wink and a roguish smile, he turned her hand so that her engagement ring sparkled in the afternoon sun. "What are husbands for?"

*** **The End** ***

* * *

**A final note from the author**: Many of my longer stories have at their heart a kernel of historical truth, and this story is no exception. Beginning in 1948 and continuing through 1962, communists in the former Czechoslovakia took more than six hundred babies from female political prisoners and gave them to new families or placed them in institutions. In 164 specific cases, these babies were given to the police, the secret police, and prison personnel. As far as I can tell, nobody was ever prosecuted for these crimes, and many of the children never even knew they'd been adopted. If you'd like more information, feel free to contact me by email and I'll gladly share what I have.


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